Running the Gauntlet
by Straya
Summary: Gen1 post 1986 movie, SC sequel. The war on Tarth is over and the journey home for Prowl, Ironhide, Ratchet, Wheeljack, Windcharger and Brawn has begun. But will they survive long enough to see Cybertron again...?
1. Prologue

_Disclaimer: The Transformers and all related material belong to Hasbro, concept originally created and licensed through Takara Co. LTD. All original characters (c) C.R. Majors._

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Author Note: This story is the sequel to my previous Transformer gen1 multichapter fan fiction, "Second Chances," which ressurected six of the Autobots brutally slain in the 1986 _Transformers: The Movie_. If you have not read SC, I strongly suggest you go back and read through it before trying to read this one, as while bits and pieces of this story will recap major parts of SC, no in-depth, fully detailed explanations will be given as to why dead 'bots are walking. And much like SC, the sequel will also contain several OCs who are necessary to the tale, as well as make use of a mix of Transformers mythos from both the cartoon and comics. That said... Welcome back and strap in. The road home will be a long and difficult one.

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**Running the Gauntlet**

_Prologue_

"Veras, get behind me!"

The female Occan barely registered the order as she instinctively scrambled back from the door in the storage room, her robes tattered, torn and stained with greenish blood. Standing between his only daughter and the fiendish creature that was now throwing itself bodily against the other side of the solid metal door in front of him, Toth ejected the spent clip from his laser pistol and hurriedly pulled another from his utility belt. As the hinges on the heavy barrier began to give, he fumbled with the firearm, shaking, six fingered hands barely able to get the weapon loaded.

Two more furious blows and the door toppled inward, barely missing the elder Occan, who stumbled back, golden, owlish eyes wide over the fringe of white hair that began at the corners of his thin lips and trailed down along his neck and chest. As the dust kicked up by the violent intrusion swirled about the room, four, pupiless glowing eyes met those of the ship's captain, narrowing in the dim light. The creature advanced over the fallen door, moving with all the confidence and slick cunning of a natural predator. It was like nothing Toth had ever seen; an amalgamation of mechanical parts, armor and knotted muscles beneath black scaled hide. While the head appeared almost reptilian in shape, a white and silver helmet concealed everything but the eyes. In its crouched position, the beast's pair of foremost limbs glinted metallic in the light, ending not in hands or even paws, but in two sickle shaped pieces of razor sharp steel mounted on thrice jointed limbs. Another two pairs of limbs moved along behind those, ending in three digits each, all tipped with black claws. Hissing coldly through its mask, the invader fixed Toth with what he swore was a hateful glare.

"Get back! I'm warning you!" Toth shouted out of pure desperation, bringing his weapon to bear. "I'll kill you if I have to!"

All four of the creature's eyes narrowed dangerously, its limbs gathering beneath its body. Toth barely had time to cry out, Veras' screams echoing in his ears as the invader leapt upon him, one steely forelimb impaling him, pinning him to the floor. All his shots either went wild or merely bounced harmlessly off the armor of his attacker. Greenish blood pooling beneath him, the light beginning to leave his eyes, the captain stared in abject horror at the alien over him. Almost twice his size, it was already covered in coagulating green fluids. The crew...

As Toth gasped, falling limp, his murderer glanced in Veras' direction, a low hiss escaping the helm. Scampering back into the nearest corner, the female wept bitterly at the sight of her dead parent, cradling her last and most precious belonging to her chest. She possessed no real weapons, natural or otherwise. Tail lashing, the blood covered killer began to slither towards her, claws and sickles ticking over the metal flooring.

"Zivven... Fall back."

The grating, low command caused the six limbed alien to halt completely, although it did not take its gaze from its target. Veras trembled, hardly daring to breathe as a second invader entered the room, barely able to fit through the doorway. Covered in shaggy black fur and chain mail armor, the bipedal newcomer appraised the situation through a pair of slitted, yellow eyes. As he stepped over the door, his subordinate backed away a few steps.

"Captain Toth's offspring, I presume?" the large alien inquired in gruff Occan, lips drawing back to reveal two sets of white fangs. For a brief moment, his gaze shifted to the corpse on the floor, mouth curling slightly in a pleased smirk. "And the good captain himself, I see. Poor fool. He should have agreed to my generous terms while he had the opportunity. Now, my dear Veras... Where is the cargo? Answer quickly enough and I may be able to keep Zivven here from using you as a new toy."

"I...I don't know what you're talking about!" the female Occan shot back, voice wavering, her entire body shaking.

"Oh, I think you do, you stubborn little-" the hairy alien snarled, but before he could finish, the communicator on the side of his metal helmet blipped. Reaching up, he tapped the side of it with one clawed hand in irritation. "Tashk here. Report."

"Tashk, it's Silth. The cargo... We can't find it! The drones found the containment unit, but it's been torn open. And one of the emergency airlocks...it's been used!"

Glaring down at Veras, Tashk ran his blue tongue over the pointed teeth on his upper jaw before replying to his comrade. "Then it either escaped on its own or one of these little, purple scaled idiots let it out! Finish your search and have the drones pull back with whatever goods they can acquire. We'll get what we came for, eventually." Shutting off the communicator, Tashk loomed over the cornered Occan, fingers flexing. "You ought to know, little one, that you are probably the last of your people left alive, here. And so it shall remain. You know what we want and you probably know more about it than anyone else could have, so we will keep you alive and you will work for us. Refuse, and Zivven will gut you as he gutted your father."

Veras curled in on herself further, tone cold with rage and hatred. "Never! And you'll never find our cargo! I'll die before I help you, you hear me?"

A deep, unsettling chuckle rumbled up out of Tashk's throat as he moved towards her, massive body casting her in shadow. "Oh, we'll find it. And you WILL help us... Even if your life is worth nothing, I think I see something else that might be worth more..."

Zivven blinked in indifference as the wailing screams began; it was all business as usual.

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_Next chapter: Every journey begins with a single step._


	2. Chapter 1: A Rare Find

_Disclaimer: The Transformers and all related material belong to Hasbro, concept originally created and licensed through Takara Co. LTD. All original characters (c) C.R. Majors._

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Author Note: Just to clear up something from the prologue as a couple people wondered EXACTLY what Tashk did Veras...no, he did not rape her. He did take something from her...but you'll have to wait to find out just what it was he took. :)

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**Running the Gauntlet**

_Chapter 1: "A Rare Find"_

_That same dream... I had it again last recharge cycle. I know I keep coming back to it, back to what it could mean, but the subject is one all of us aboard the Wayfarer consider frequently. _

_It's been nearly a Terran month since we left Tarth, over a year since we all died in the Great War, according to what calculations we've managed on time differences. Despite Wheeljack's research, we still have not found way back to either Cybertron or Earth. The conflict on Tarth created a veritable vacuum about the planet, leaving the area void of refueling stations and independent lay-over ports. For a time, we feared would run out of fuel before we found civilization again, but luck was with us; our meandering landed us at a docking station where were able to trade for fuel and add to our meager collection of star charts. Since then we have come into contact with two other alien races on two separate planets, slowly gaining information on our whereabouts while gathering and selling scrap to keep our craft running. On both occasions, we have kept our identities as Cybertronians a secret, moving about outside the ship in cloaks. We may be searching for a way home, but unexpected contact with our own race could be disastrous depending on the circumstances. It's for this reason our craft remains unmarked, as well - an anonymous scavenger ship with no obvious "bells or whistles" to attract unwanted attention. _

_I suppose it was shortly after our run into the Ch'danth hive on Tarth, our time in "the belly of the beast" that made most of us reconsider our standpoint in life. None of us are the same mechs we were during or before the Great War; death alone altered us greatly. And while we all still maintain the virtuous beliefs upheld by the Autobot cause... Autobots we are not. Our main concern has become simple survival, coupled with finding a way home if only just to retire from the madness of war. At the same time, one could never call us Decepticons, either. We respect life and freedom far too much for that. It's just that we stand outside the circle now, the one that set the boundaries during the war, the one that demanded a mech belonged to a specific Cybertronian faction. We all maintain our faith in Primus, but ultimately our loyalties beyond the spiritual realm belong to our group...our family. Out here in the deadened sectors of space, we have only each other to rely on. I believe if was Windcharger who suggested we classify ourselves by our "occupation"...that we refer to ourselves as "Junkers." The name has stuck since then. _

_And I'm rambling again. Where did I begin? Right, that dream. _

_Always the same; returning to Cybertron only to find the war has ended, but in no one's favor. It's an end created by a draw due to the complete decimation of both factions. I believe that to be the least likely outcome, but the very idea is unnerving. Most of us figure the war has not yet ended, although I do wonder if such a belief is the result of fearing the worst, of not wanting to believe that our former comrades have been wiped out. No one wants to think we could be the last of our old kind, but it's a nagging doubt I know exists for us all. _

_Seems I'll need to end here. Prowl is paging from the command deck. We're not due to arrive at our next destination for a few more hours, so they must have found a bit of free-floating scrap on the approach. I'd best collect Jaraxis and join the others up top. _

_- Junker Medical Officer Ratchet_

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Setting down the data pad he'd been using as a personal log since leaving Tarth, Ratchet spun his chair around to face the rest of his quarters. The room, while not particularly large, was comfortable and well organized. His desk and recharge berth took up the majority of space available, leaving the medic to store his personal belongings in wall mounted cabinets. Ratchet possessed very little beyond his tools and small collection of various data pads, but some of his more precious belongings consisted of souvenirs from Tarth, such as one of N'Chala's old walking sticks and an old book from Palgren on Tarthan wildlife. Glancing around, Ratchet attempted to see where his roommate had gotten off to while his back was turned.

"Jaraxis? Where are you?"

When the wayward Tarthan failed to show himself, the mech opened his top desk drawer and pulled out a plastic canister, rattling it a little. Almost immediately, a pair of ears perked up from the space between the berth and wall, the lanky body of Jaraxis quickly following. Ratchet grinned as the silvery creature leapt onto his lap, the form fitting blue bodysuit the young Tarthan wore granting him freedom of movement. Opening the canister, the medic pulled out a bit of root he'd picked up during the shuttle's last layover and handed it to his companion. Taking the root in both clawed hands, Jaraxis gnawed on it in contentment.

Proportionately, Jaraxis was about the size to Ratchet that a cat would be to a human being. And while a part of the mech hated treating N'Chala's last of kin like a pet, Jaraxis was still mute and missing much of himself. He continued to keep up communication through only body language and the occasional message over their shared link. As it was, the lost Tarthan often behaved like an Earth feline, moving on all fours much of the time and sometimes exhibiting an irritating amount of stubbornness. As the last of the root vanished, Ratchet reached down and ran one finger tip along the edge of a slightly tilted ear. Apparently in a good mood, Jaraxis bumped his head against his friend's palm. Chuckling softly, Ratchet ran his hand along the length of the other's back a few times.

"Alright, 'Rax, we need to get up to the command deck," the bot said as he switched to scratching the Tarthan behind one ear. "Prowl's orders. Don't wanna give the boss too much grief so early in our shift."

Jaraxis scurried up Ratchet's right arm, settling himself on his caretaker's shoulder. Stowing his log in his desk, the medic left his quarters and made his way through the halls to the upper command deck. Prowl, Ironhide and Wheeljack were already present, standing near one of the larger screens.

"Scrap run?" Ratchet questioned as he joined the trio.

"We thought so, yes," Prowl replied. "But when Brawn and Windcharger went to retrieve it, seems they found something of interest."

"They're still out collectin' the rest, but I had 'em bring this in soon as they found it," Ironhide added, handing a palm-sized bit of metal to the white and red mech.

Ratchet's optics went wide. "What the slag would this be doing out here?"

Wheeljack shrugged. "Dunno, really, 'less maybe it's left over from a bad fight. Thing is, it's the only one we found."

"We are still just out of range of Krux," Prowl reminded, bringing up their next planetary destination. "It is possible that piece was dumped out of a passing vessel, possibly with the refuse. Why, I don't know. But as soon as Windcharger and Brawn are done, we're heading directly to Krux's Moshan Space Port to refuel and trade."

Examining the metal piece once more before handing it back to Ironhide, the medic frowned. "Possible the inhabitants of Moshan might know something. We'd better be real careful wandering the place, though."

"Cloaks and use of Tarthan language outside the native dialect should be enough to start," the black and white agreed. "We'll continue our usage of our aliases, as well. I had only planned for a twelve hour lay over, but this new development may require us to remain in port for a few Terran days, if just to gather information."

"I'm gonna head down to help the guys finish up so we can get off shift," Ironhide announced wearly. "See you lot, later."

As the big mech departed, subspacing their latest odd find as he did so, Prowl eased himself into the central command chair to double check their port arrangements before landing at Moshan.

"Be in the storage rooms if ya need me," Wheeljack said before excusing himself to take inventory of needed supplies.

This left Ratchet to park himself in one of the comm monitoring chairs for the time being. The Wayfarer was not currently in motion and thus did not require someone to baby sit the main navigation system.

"I really hope we're not flying straight into a war zone," the medic sighed, more to himself than anyone else present. "Seein' that insignia again after so long worries me."

"I doubt it," Prowl responded, optics still on the job at hand. "I've been looking into recent electronic documents on our chosen port and it seems business is booming there, so to speak. That isn't to say that crime is low, but the place isn't a mess, either. Our biggest problem will probably be in getting along with the other traders and visitors. The locals, although shrewd, are reported as being friendly enough to maintain good business relationships with their clients and the ah...tourist element."

"We gonna follow our usual plan?"

"Probably. I'm assigning Windcharger and Wheeljack to stay with the shuttle while we handle the out of port end of business. More than likely, we'll split up to get things done quicker. Alright if I send you off with Ironhide?"

Ratchet nodded. "Got no problems with that."

At that moment, the ship's alert beacon for the hatch doors went off. The strategist glanced up at the blinking yellow light before bringing up navigation on screen. "Looks like they're done. I'll restart the main engine and get us moving, again."

"Taking her in autopilot, as usual?"

"Indeed."

"Game of cards while we sit it out?" The medic smirked, knowing there was little else to do while he and the other mech held their posts.

Prowl chuckled softly, shaking his head as he stood up. "Fine, but don't let me catch you using Jaraxis to cheat, again."

Both medic and Tarthan put on their best innocent grins.

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The planet Krux, for as small as it was, contained a diverse variety of life forms. A small planet, most of it was covered over in water and marshes. But what wasn't still held by the local wildlife was teeming with active space ports, markets, trading posts and even gaming casinos. Despite having a more or less civilized trading system, Krux was still given to more barbaric past times, however, which explained a few of the large battle coliseums present in some areas.

After taking the shuttle into port at Moshan, all six Junkers emerged from the main doors to step out into the bright, humid conditions. Before them, the busy port, which currently held dozens upon dozens of other crafts, stretched out into the main city. Comprised of twisted high rises interspersed between smaller buildings, covered domes and massive trees grown up in between, it looked like an odd mix between a lost jungle city and a crazy theme resort. Prowl spoke with one of the port keepers briefly while the others waited, the lanky, short haired, bipedal, almost wolf-life creature grinning too much for the tactician's taste as it eyed the Wayfarer.

"So, what's the word?" Brawn asked as Prowl returned to them. All of them had donned their traveling cloaks, which served to hide a good portion of their armor. Each Junker's face was entirely cast in shadow, only their dimly glowing optics easily seen.

"They'll gladly allow us to remain longer than planned, but I don't trust that Kruxan," came the wary response. "Their kind is known to be extremely shrewd when it comes to business and in some cases, extremely dirty about getting what they want if something particularly interesting or valuable comes along. Wheeljack, Windcharger, stay with the Wayfarer and make sure it's properly refueled. When the rest of us get back with the supplies, we'll load everything ourselves. No one except our crew is to set foot on board."

"You got it," Wheeljack responded with a slight nod.

"I do hope we'll get to go out and explore the port at some point though, right?" the red and silver minibot asked. "Don't want to catch cabin fever, ya know!"

"You two will be permitted leave once we've come back," Prowl replied with a small smirk. "Alright. Has every one downloaded the language codec? Remember to speak only Kruxan to the locals and if a private conversation is needed among our own, use Tarthan. And keep your weapons close at all times and use only each other's aliases."

"We got it, Kaj," Ironhide said as he switched languages. "Let's just get a move on."

With that, Ryn and Arc, otherwise known as Ratchet and Ironhide, headed down the ramp with Jaraxis in tow. Kaj soon followed, Brawn moving along at his side under the self chosen alias of Zarn. The two pairs split off from one another completely after getting to the main walkway in, heading for different destinations.

As the single sun overhead rose higher into the sky, Ryn and Arc managed to place orders with two decently trustworthy merchants to replace some of their depleted supplies, which included various spare parts from Wheeljack's list, medical supplies from Ratchet's list and even a few comfort items like boxes of silicon wafers Towards the evening hours, both mechs took a short break, retiring to a local bar deep in the city to see what kind of drinks were to be had. Tarth had offered nothing in the way of energon and while the Junkers were often able to acquire some of what was necessary to make and process it aboard the Wayfarer, it still remained something of a luxury. As they made their way inside, only having to duck a little to get through the door, the two mechs and Tarthan found themselves faced with a dimly lit bar room, crowded and noisy. A dozen different species of aliens varying in colors, limb counts and hides covered in scales, hair and even thin layers of slime occupied tables and corners, the bartender eying the pair as they entered. A half toothless Kruxan with graying fur and missing two digits on one of his three fingered hands, he motioned for the Junkers to step up to the counter.

"What'll it be for ya?" he questioned, voice a low hiss, his almost white blue eyes scanning the pair quickly.

Arc took a seat on the nearest, sturdiest looking stool before leaning on the counter with one arm. "Two shots'a high-grade energon if ya got it."

The Kruxan nodded before going to fetch the drinks. "Certainly..."

Taking the seat beside Arc, Ryn glanced about before turning to face his companion. "Could've picked a better place than this."

"It was convenient and they've got energon, here," came the drawling response. "'Sides, we won't be here long. Just enough to get a shot or two in before heading back."

When the bartender returned with two shots in hand, Arc slid him a couple of credits. An ugly smile on his hairy face, the Kruxan glanced up at them both. "I take it you two are here for the slave auctions, yes?"

Ryn arched an optic ridge beneath his hood. "Slave auctions?"

"Should be going on about now, down by the coliseum," the bartender hissed. "Good prices, good pickings. Wouldn't miss it if I were you."

Arc snorted before taking a drink from his cup. "Ah, get lost. We'll call ya if we need anything."

"Remind me to let you conduct our next alien negotiation session if we ever get into trouble again, Arc," the other mech said with a smirk as the Kruxan ambled away, growling.

"I'll negotiate his head right into the counter if the next shots are as bad as this one. Guh."

Ryn took a sip, wincing a little as the liquid energon went down. "Probably didn't get processed right."

"Probably not. Either that or they used some cheap imitation import supplies TO help process it. And should he be drinkin' that?" Arc asked, watching as Jaraxis scurried down his companion's arm before peering into the cup.

The Tarthan tilted his ears forward, reaching in with one hand to cup some energon and drink it down. Both mechs watched as he shook his head in distaste, tail curling.

Ryn smirked. "A little won't hurt 'im. But not like he'll want to keep drinking this stuff, anyway. Primus, I can barely stand it."

Both Junkers finished off their drinks, forcing down the sour energon only because they didn't care to see it wasted. And, as they sat and talked in low tones, the bar began to fill up with patrons, the conditions becoming noisier and more uncomfortable. Finally, both decided they'd had enough "atmosphere" and got up to take their leave, Ryn bumping into a particularly huge and armored Kruxan as he approached the door. Most of the hairy aliens tended to come up to the medic's chest, but this one was more than a head taller, black furred from head to tail and carrying a heavy sword of some kind on its back.

"Problem there, gear head?" the monster of a Kruxan snarled down, eyes narrowing. "Perhaps I should take that critter on your shoulder and cram it down your intake, eh?"

"Ease off, ugly," Arc warned, one fist clenched as he stood by his fellow's side. "I don' care how tough ya think ya are. I'll tear that bottle brush ya call a tail off an' shove it straight up yer--"

"Arc," the other mech interrupted, one hand coming to rest on the red and black's chest. "Don't. Let's just go."

With some effort, Ryn managed to get the bristling Arc outside, the mech and Kruxan exchanging death glares with one another all the while. Once outside, the medic gave the other's shoulder a light shove.

"Would'ja ease off, yourself? We can't afford to start trouble, here. And that's aside from how bad I know you would a kicked that slagger's tail."

"Hrmph. Let's just get back to the shuttle so the others can take a short leave."

As they made their way back down the crowded market street near the coliseum's main square, both Junkers were forced to the side as a group of short, scaly aliens came through with a herd of shaggy beasts that greatly resembled elephants crossed with buffalo. Taking a detour to avoid not only the noise, but the smell as well, they cut through the square towards the giant stone, circular coliseum. Unfortunately, a sizable crowd had gathered there, as well, preventing them from making it to the next road over. A wooden stage had been erected at the end of the square, a Kruxan auctioneer shouting out over the crowd as bids were cast on a rather skinny looking, pale skinned creature bound in chains.

"Must be the slave auction that stinking bartender mentioned," Arc grumbled. "Stuff like this makes my laser core burn."

"And looks like we'll be waiting here a few cycles while the street behind us clears," Ryn added, glancing over one shoulder at the problems the alien herd was causing. "Just sit tight a few and we'll be out of here."

The auction on the creature on stage ended, a couple of well built Kruxans moving to escort it off stage so the new owner could claim it. Ryn sighed and turned his attention elsewhere, focusing on a shop across the street that sold what looked like a collection of various ritual items for Primus only knew what. He was just figuring it might have something to do with the local "voodoo" when a mental cue from Jaraxis pulled his gaze back to the slave auction. The mech's jaw dropped.

"Arc," he hissed, putting one hand on the other bot's shoulder. "Look over there!"

The red and black Junker glanced up, optics widening in shock beneath his hood. "What in the name'a the Matrix..."

"I'm callin' Kaj. He needs to know about this. And don't even think about charging up there!"

Unsubspacing the bit of metal he'd been carrying with him, Arc held it up. "Same shape and size of the hole in his chest. But how did...?"

"At the moment, I don't think it matters. Let's just figure out what to do before it's too late!" Opening up a secure communication link, Ryn put the call through.

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Kaj watched as the last of the crates were unloaded by the open cargo bay doors of the Wayfarer, Zarn and the rest already working on getting the rest loaded. Just as the head Junker finished paying for the goods, his communicator buzzed to life, Ryn's voice coming through in urgent tones.

"Kaj, it's Ryn. I'm down here by the coliseum square with Arc and there's a slave auction goin' on. You wouldn't believe who's next in line for sale!"

The black and white arched an optic ridge. "A slave auction? Who?"

"...Blitzwing."

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_Next chapter: Beyond Great War's reach._


	3. Chapter 2: Enemies, New and Old

_Disclaimer: The Transformers and all related material belong to Hasbro, concept originally created and licensed through Takara Co. LTD. All original characters (c) C.R. Majors._

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Author Note: Apologies for how long it took me to post this chapter, but unfortunately I work retail and the time between mid-November and January is a particularly hellish time for those in customer service (particularly any level of management). In the meantime, on and off role playing served to keep me sane enough so I COULD come back to this fic. And hopefully, next time around, it won't take me nearly as long to get a chapter finished and posted. :P Thank you for your patience, everyone!

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**Running the Gauntlet**

_Chapter 2: "Enemies, New and Old"_

Even for as on the ball as Kaj typically was, nothing could have prepared him to hear that name spoken over the communication link between himself and his medical officer. By this time, the other three Junkers had noticed their leader's suddenly rigid stance and paused in their work to watch him, questioning expressions on all their faceplates. Ryn prompted the black and white again, having not gotten a response, yet.

"Kaj, are you recieving?"

Snapping back to focus, Kaj frowned, keeping his voice low. "You've got to bid on him, Ryn."

"I...what?"

"Bid on him. He may be a Decepticon, but he's the only solid link we have right now! You've got to win his auction no matter what."

Silence over the line for a moment. "And what, pray tell, do we do with 'im once we've got 'im?"

"Make sure he's bound and escort him back here. We'll take care of an interrogation on board the Wayfarer."

"I take it we can't let him see our faces?"

"Right. Call me again in you run into complications." Closing the link, Kaj looked to where the rest were watching. "Get something we can use for a holding cell ready. Arc and Ryn are bringing in some live goods."

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"So?" Arc asked as his partner closed transmission.

"We're to bid on him and win," Ryn replied with a frown. "And no, we can't thrash him once we have him. Kaj wants him taken back to the shuttle for interrogation."

"Slag! That bucket of rusted out bolts is one of the guys who got us in this whole mess in the first place!"

"We'll worry about that, later. Right now, we need to get our hands on him before anyone else does. He's one of the only Cybertronian we've seen since before our deaths. And I'm not even sure the other two really counted, seein' as how they were both sorta dead, as well."

With Arc swearing lowly at his side, the medic moved closer to the stage, careful not to jostle any of the other spectators too much. As they got closer, the announcer already giving details on the latest prize to be won, Ryn couldn't help but notice that it seemed Blitzwing had seen far better days. Aside from missing all his faction insignias, his paint was chipped and scuffed, his armor dented, part of his mono-optic shield was cracked and one of his wings appeared to have been shorn clean off. The triple changer stood hunched over, gaze on the stage near his own feet, two thick energy bonds encirling his torso to keep his arms pinned to his sides. Just how had Blitzwing gotten so far from home turf, and what sort of misfortune had befallen him to leave him in such a beat up state?

As the contest for ownership began, Ryn took it upon himself to be the one to place bids, raising his right hand as necessary to signal an increase in the amount of credits on the line. Several other parties remained interested in the wayward Cybertronian until the price steepened, several bidders dropping out to leave only Ryn and Arc, and two other parties warring for ownership.

"This is gettin' expensive," Arc hissed as his comrade put in a bid for ten thousand five hundred credits. "That hunk of junk had better be worth it all, 'cause at this rate, we'll have to work overtime on runs just to make ends meet!"

"If he can be interrogated for valuable information about what's happened while we've been away, it'll be worth it," Ryn responded as one of the other two parties upped the ante by another five hundred credits. "I just hope the other bidders run out of assets before we do."

Finally, at twelve thousand credits, one of the other bidders dropped out. It was difficult to see who the remaining one was, but it looked to be a rather mangy, unusually small Kruxan with several cybernetic prosthetics. Waving one three fingered, clawed hand in the air, he placed a bid for twelve thousand five hundred. Ryn shook his head and raised his hand to increase his bid amount to thirteen thousand when the number was called. If the bidding exceeded fifteen thousand, they would have to drop out and find another way to obtain Blitzwing.

The small Kruxan put in a bid for thirteen thousand five hundred, but after Ryn bid for five hundred over that amount, he noticed the cyborg suddenly seemed preoccupied with his communicator headset. Perhaps the native had only been there on someone else's behalf and his sponsor had just warned him to stop bidding. The final amount bid by the medic was called once, twice, three times...

"Sold!" the auctioneer bellowed over the crowd, one hand raised in Ryn and Arc's direction. "Please move back stage to complete the transaction. Next auction, next auction! Soon to be on stage, a fine specimen from Galia's near moon--"

Arc snorted as Ryn led the way backstage, trudging along. "Fourteen thousand... I better at least be able to kick him in the aft once or I'm gonna be mighty ticked off."

"Ease off," Ryn warned as they approached the guards watching over Blitzwing, the group located in some of the shade cast by the pavilion behind the auction stage. "If you shoot your mouth off here, we might end up blowing our cover."

"Credstick," the head of the slave auction, a gaunt, almost insect-like alien practically demanded as the two Cybertronians halted in front of him, one twisted extremity held out, the other clutching a device to record the transaction.

Careful to keep his face well hidden, the medic pulled his credstick from subspace and beneath his cloak before handing it over. The owner snatched the card between a pair of forelimb pinchers and slid it into the slot on his device, watching the tiny screen carefully, sniffing disdainfully now and again until the amount finally cleared. Shoving the credstick back into Ryn's hand, he bowed out of the way and went to oversee business, elsewhere. As the guards left them, the medic motioned for Blitzwing to follow him.

"You will stay between Arc and I," he instructed in harsh Kruxan, moving alongside the triple changer's right side. "Do this and we will not harm you."

Blitzwing glanced in the medic's direction, nothing short of a blank look on his faceplate. As Ryn looked up at him, he found himself frowning.

"Do you not understand Kruxan?"

The insignia stripped Decepticon frowned slightly before replying in the same language. "I do. ...I just have nothing to say to either of you."

"Nice to know some things never change," Arc growled in Tarthan.

"Not here, not now, Arc," Ryn responded warily, switching over to Tarthan as well and hoping that their "guest" did not understand a word of what was said. "Our only job, now that we've got him, is to take him back to the shuttle."

Heading down one of the main streets towards the docks, the three walked in relative silence. Ryn was careful to watch Blitzwing every possible moment, wondering why it was the wayward Decepticon had not made a break for it, yet. Neither Junker had shown him that they were armed, even though both were carrying formidable melee weapons beneath their cloaks. Perhaps his shoddy exterior was only a part of the triple changer's problems. It was possible everything but his essential systems had been disabled by the slavers. Did he even have the ability to transform? Triple changers, as a rule, were faster on the draw when it came to switching alt modes than any other Cybertronian, but required a lot more regular maintenance as a result. The doctor in Ryn was concerned, despite the fact that the patient in question was responsible for unbelievable amounts of destruction in the past. Perhaps time had healed a few wounds, after all.

_Don't turn around... We are being followed._

Ryn narrowed his optics, head cocked to one side. Jaraxis was up on his shoulder, having slid out from under the cloak during the trip back towards the docks. The mental message was brief, but it was enough. Ryn answered in like communication.

_How many? What are they?_

_Kruxans. Two. One is the bidder from the auction. The other is much larger, armed with a blade. Same from the bar._

_Distance?_

The Tarthan was silent a moment before answering. _Ten or so of your body lengths._

While Jaraxis watched his back, Ryn shifted his gaze to where Arc walked on their captive's other side, speaking in Tarthan. "Arc, Jaraxis says we've got company. Two Kruxans, one definitely armed and the other from the auction. The armed one is probably the same one from the bar. Likely they didn't care too much that we won out."

"Oh good," Arc responded, the smirk evident in his tone of voice. "Gives me somethin' to take my less than pleasant mood out on!"

Ryn frowned. "We can't afford a fight in the middle of the street while we're trying to escort a captive. Pick up the pace... We need to reach the docks quickly."

"That's IF pickin' up the pace don't alert our pursuit to somethin' bein' up," the red and black Junker reminded. "If they come at us, you just leave the bigger'a the two to me. I feel like I owe him a few punches in the face, anyway!"

"Move faster," the medic commanded in Kruxan, careful to keep his voice low.

Their pace increased, the three tried to weave their way through the market crowds as swiftly as they dared without drawing too much attention. Jaraxis curled up on his keeper's shoulder, ears laid back against his head, golden eyes wide as he watched their pursuit. The two Kruxans were moving faster now, as well, the larger of the pair easily keeping pace with his longer stride, the smaller scampering along behind like a faithful pet of sorts. Then, just as they came within view of the docks, the black furred Kruxan rushed forward, drawing the massive sword from the sheath on his back.

_Turn! TURN!_ Jaraxis warned, already uttering an audible series of hisses. _Attack!_

Ryn whirled and moved to the side just in time to save himself from being cleaved in half from behind, the thick blade swinging down in a rush of air and striking the paved street, blue sparks flying. The next moment, Arc was charging their assailant, bum rushing him from one side and slamming into the big Kruxan with enough force to break through a solid concrete wall. Both warriors fell to the street, entangled, the sword forgotten for the moment.

"Stay with me!" Ryn ordered Blitzwing, but all too soon, his attention was diverted as the smaller Kruxan launched himself at the medic, clinging to his front, clawed hands finding his neck. "Get...get off me, you mangy--!"

The Decepticon in their midst watched all this with what could only be a look of shock and even fear, which quickly turned to one of abject horror as Ryn's hood fell back, the white and red too preoccupied with his opponent to keep it well in place. Turning tail, Blitzwing shoved a merchant out of his way and started to run, fleeing through the crowd towards the nearest open alley. Scrambling across Ryn's shoulders, Jaraxis took a flying leap into the air and shifted, becoming what could only be called a mini-Ch'danth, wings spread. As the Tarthan flew after Blitzwing, the larger Kruxan threw Arc off and got up with an enraged snarl.

"No, he's getting away again! Silth, stop him!"

The smaller Kruxan made an attempt to leap off Ryn, but found himself grabbed by the tail and hauled backwards, the medic growling out curses. "No, you don't! I'm gonna skin you alive, you rotten little mutt!"

"Tashk, help me!" Silth howled, single amber eye wide as Ryn extended the energy blade on his right arm.

"Idiot! Must I do everything myself?" Grabbing up his own weapon, Tashk turned with the intention of running Ryn through, but found his assault cut short as a counterattack from Arc cleaved his metal sword in half.

Energy blades extended from both forearms, Arc put himself between his comrade and the big alien. "I ain't done with you, yet! So whatcha gonna do now that I've broken your toy?"

Tahsk put on a fiendish grin. "Let you play with the other!"

"Arc, look out!"

Ryn's warning came almost too late, a metal scythe-shaped blade barely missing Arc's head and instead carving out a piece of his shoulder as he ducked out of the way, a lithe, scaled and armored alien with four eyes and a mask descending on him from one of the roof tops nearby. As the red and black stumbled backwards with a curse, Ryn seized Silth by the back of the neck and hurled him into the newcomer, both of them tumbling to the ground. Grabbing his comrade by his good arm, Ryn pulled Arc away into the crowd, fighting past those who had posted themselves around the perimeter of the fight to cheer on the action.

"What're you doin'? We could've taken them!" Arc complained as they fled the scene, running hard for the docks.

"Our two against their three, with your shoulder half gone?" Ryn shot back with a scowl. "I don't think so! We'll have to report to Kaj and then try to get Blitzwing back. Jaraxis flew after him, so we might actually have a chance at getting to him before those hairy freaks do."

In their wake, their three attackers gathered themselves to regroup before disappearing back into the market crowds.

-------

"Think you can patch him up enough to hold things until we get back?"

Wheeljack glanced from Ironhide's ruined shoulder to Ratchet and nodded. "Yep, shouldn't be a problem. How long do you think you'll be?"

"However long it takes to recover our target," Prowl responded from where he stood nearby, the other Junkers standing by as they watched in the cargo area of the Wayfarer. He was careful not to mention Blitzwing by name. The others did not know, yet, and better if it remained that way for the time being. Two of the crew had been killed by the Decepticon triple changers and Prowl was uncertain how they would react to know one of their killers was so close. Granted, there had already been questions and grumblings, but the strategist had held them off on it. "If Ratchet can track Jaraxis, it shouldn't take long. In the meantime, we need the rest of you to hold this place down and finish that holding cell."

"Yeah, an' what happens if you two get attacked by that trio of retrorats, Prowl?" Ironhide demanded, still eager to fight despite his wound.

"Hightail it back here fast as we can, I think," the medic among them replied sternly. "If we have to, Prowl and I can convert to vehicle mode an' lose them. An' if we run into them after we find our target, well..."

"He is better off with us than with them," Prowl cut in calmly. "It will just be a matter of convincing him of that fact. Just let me handle negotiations. Are you ready, Ratchet?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

"You're not nearly as worried about Jaraxis as I thought you'd be," Windcharger commented as the two headed for the open bay door.

"He may be mute, but he's nigh indestructible now," Ratchet replied before exiting. "Short term, he can take care of himself."

Wheeljack had to shake his head a little at that. Jaraxis, in terms of his build and ability to survive, needed no one. It was the bond between the medic and the Tarthan that made them need one another to a point where death was preferable to permanent separation.

-------

Blitzwing huddled in the corner of the dank alley, having run fast and hard through several streets in order to get that far. Energy levels low, he cursed his inability to break free of the bonds holding him and transform. Being sold by slavers AGAIN was bad enough, but then to have seen a mech he was sure was dead? And for Tashk to still be after him? It was almost too much for the triple changer's addled processors to handle. Exhaustion was something he was all too familiar with after Terran months of being on the run, but confusion was something he could do without.

"Autobot?"

Nearly hitting his head against the stone wall behind him as he startled, Blitzwing glanced around nervously, trying to figure on the direction of the voice. Unable to use his enhanced vision functions, it took him nearly a cycle to notice the small, silvery creature on all fours near a dust covered crate to his left. Golden eyes glowing softly in the dim light, it watched him in total silence a moment before creeping forward a few steps. Blitzwing gritted his dental plates; that thing belonged to a dead mech...

"Get lost!" he hissed angrily in Cybertronian. "Go back to your master!"

"Autobot?" it questioned again, blinking once and taking a few more steps towards him.

"No! Decep... Nothing. I am nothing. Now scram before I step on you!"

"Lost...?" It was speaking Cybertronian, as well, although its vocabulary seemed very limited.

Blitzwing growled and shrank further into his corner the closer the creature got. "No. Escaped. And I want to STAY this way."

"Broken." The observation was simple, yet to the point. Sitting on on its hind legs, the other twitched an ear. "Ratchet...fix you."

"Ratchet..." The name felt unpleasant, coming out of his vocalizer. The triple changer had not seen the Autobot CMO since Megatron led the attack on the Lancet. And like the other crew members, the white and red had fallen victim to a fusion cannon blast, falling dead to the floor in a pool of his own fluids. Blitzwing had always assumed that after the Decepticons abandoned the shuttle in the attack on the city, it had crashed and taken the remains of the crew with it. Part of him still wondered if, in his fatigue, he had only imagined seeing the CMO again, but this little alien was rapidly proving that theory to be wrong. Or maybe it was just a similar looking mech with the same name? "Ratchet died. I saw him die."

"...I died."

Well, this was all just making less sense by the nanoklick. Blitzwing was about to try scaring the little creature off by kicking out with one leg in its direction when it suddenly jumped up and landed on his knee joint. He startled slightly, but had to hand the beast credit for guts, at least.

"...get off me," he snarled in low tones, glaring down at his unwanted guest.

"Make sure...you stay here," came the response, the creature blinking up at him without fear. "Others...come for you."

"Others?"

"Ratchet. Coming...with Prowl."

Blitzwing snorted. "Great, TWO dead Autobots, now?"

"We are very much alive, thank you."

The triple changer glanced up, mouth dropping open. Two cloaked figures were blocking the light into the alley, their shadows cast against the near wall. As they moved forward, the alien on Blitzwing's leg turned towards them.

"Ratchet. Prowl."

"Talking now, are you?" The taller of the pair pulled back his hood to reveal a white helm, grey faceplate and predominately black chevron. "It would be you'd talk to a stranger before me, eh? C'mere, Jaraxis."

"You're fortunate Jaraxis was able to follow you, Blitzwing." Dropping his disguise as well, the shorter mech glanced at the cornered triple changer. "I assure you that you are better off with us than with those Kruxans that attacked, earlier. I do not know their intentions, but in a place such as this, you are better off among your own."

Blitzwing stared up at the two Autobots, barely noticing as Jaraxis left him and scurried up Ratchet's right leg and back to perch on his shoulder. "You're both SUPPOSED to be dead... And you are NOT comrades of mine!"

"If anyone here looks anywhere near to dead, Blitzwing, it's you," Ratchet commented, one optic narrowed. "I dunno what you've been through, but if you come with us, we'll get you off Krux and see to some repairs."

"You want something from me... You wouldn't help me, otherwise. EVERYONE wants something from me."

"Information is all we require," Prowl replied, undaunted by the tone of the other mech's voice. "Now, will you accompany us back to our shuttle?"

Before Blitzwing could answer, however, there was a low hiss from behind both cloaked mechs. Turning, they saw a quadrapedal creature glaring at them at the alley's entrance, two limbs ending in sickles raised over its head. Advancing slowly, its tail lashed back and forth, the large metallic barb on the end of it curling in anticipation.

"Zivven," Blitzwing growled as he got to his feet. "He'll dismantle all of us!"

"One of Tashk's flunkies," Ratchet explained shortly when the strategist glanced at him. "But don't underestimate him. He was fast enough - and those blades were sharp enough - to carve up our boy's shoulder."

Prowl pulled his favorite melee weapon from beneath his cloak and ignited it, the energy beam sword lighting up the whole of the alley with a bluish glow. "Then I'll handle this one. Take Blitzwing back to the shuttle, but be careful. I'm counting on you to make sure nothing happens to our guest once he's there."

"I can't just leave you here to-"

"You can and you will," Prowl interrupted as he placed himself between the enemy and the other two mechs, blade held in a ready position. "If I do not radio you by the time you reach the docks, send two of the others back this way for me. Now go and be quick about it. Over the wall."

Ratchet nodded and turned away, igniting his own blade, cutting Blitzwing free of his bonds. "Real sense of deja-vu... Be careful, Prowl."

The strategist merely nodded, listening as the two Cybertronians clambered over the stone wall behind him to relative safety. Before him, Zivven watched all this with a low hiss, claws ticking against the concrete as he lowered himself for an attack. Prowl did not meet the creature's gaze, instead focusing on the alien's back legs, knowing that they would cue him quickest as to when his foe would move. For a long moment, the two merely observed one another, neither making a single sound.

Zivven's armor rattled as he pounced, not lunging for Prowl, but rather for the nearest wall, talons digging into the brick work as he half climbed, half leapt along the surface to get around his opponent. Gritting his dental plates, the tactician reacted quickly, battle computer calculating all possible counter-measures he could take before he unsubspaced his rifle and raised it, firing on Zivven as he leapt for the stone wall in back. Two shots struck home, the acid pellets burning the scaly hide covering part a hind leg, Zivven uttering a low, grating growl through his mask as he hit the ground, steam rising from his wounds.

"No," Prowl stated, gun still trained on his enemy, optics narrowed. "If you want the others, you must get through me, first."

Limbs gathering beneath his body once more, Zivven turned on him, the two overhanging sickles taking on a sinister golden glow...

-------

"Here, put this on," Ratchet instructed as he hurried through the streets alongside Blitzwing, offering the triple changer a spare cloak with one hand. "I take it you've run into Tashk's crew previously?"

"They held me once before," came the grating response as the cloak was accepted and pulled into place. "They're bounty hunters. Been tracking me for a while, now."

"So who put the bounty on your head?"

"Galvatron."

The medic arched one optic ridge as they cut around a cart selling various spare parts. "Who?"

Blitzwing half smirked, apparently amused by the response. "You don't know him, and feel lucky for that much. You died before he took control of the Decepticons."

Ratchet stopped himself before he could inquire as to how Megatron had been dethroned. The Decepticon leader he knew would not be so easily replaced and while curiosity was starting to eat at him, it would be better to find all this out later. The other Junkers would want the information as well, so no sense in having everything told once, only to ask Blitzwing to repeat it after they made it back to the Wayfarer.

"Who leads you?" Blitzwing asked as they approached the entrance to the docks at a quick jog.

"Prowl." Admittedly, that question made the CMO more than a little uncomfortable. Who did Blitzwing THINK led the Junkers?

"I see."

They had little time for further conversation, however, as the massive form of Tashk appeared before them, stepping out from behind a wall to block their path. Rolling his shoulders in their sockets, the flexible, horn-like projections over his shoulders twitching in anticipation, the Kruxan faced the pair down with bared fangs.

...and this time he had an energy sword with him, the blade nearly as long as Ratchet was tall.

The medic drew back one step, optics widening slightly. "Some days, I long for a mundane and boring life."

Blitzwing nodded in grim agreement, hands clenched into fists. "You and me, both."

-------

Bonus art - Zivven sketch - (Copy, paste and remove the spaces to view) - **www. sylversword. com/tf/zivven-sketch.jpg**

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_Next chapter: What they left behind._


	4. Chapter 3: Fight or Flee

_Disclaimer: The Transformers and all related material belong to Hasbro, concept originally created and licensed through Takara Co. LTD. All original characters (c) C.R. Majors._

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Author Note: Turns out I got a little ahead of myself in putting the one line teaser on the last chapter... "What they left behind"? Well, not quite yet. News about what death forced the Junkers to leave behind will have to wait one more chapter.

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**Running the Gauntlet**

_Chapter 3: "Fight or Flee"_

For a few nanoklicks, the three merely glared across the way at one another. The building tension was not lost on the locals, however, who almost instinctively withdrew from the area, leaving the trio a wide berth. Eyes narrowing to thin slits, Tashk dropped into a ready stance, the energy sword held before him in one clawed hand.

"Give me the slave, scrap pile, before I'm forced to take him from you!" the Kruxan growled, fangs bared.

Ratchet's initial response was to ignite his own melee weapon, the thin, blue blade extending from the gauntlet on his right wrist. "Don't think so, dog breath. I'm not gonna stand here and let you take another sentient being into slavery."

On the medic's shoulder, Jaraxis hissed, shrinking back. _Tashk strong... Need me for your second eyes?_

_No... Get to the ship. Warn the others. I'm probably going to need help._

_Can't leave you..._

_Don't argue! Ratchet hissed back over the mental link. Just hurry..._

The Tarthan tensed before springing into the air, shape shifting into a tiny Ch'Danth and flying off towards the docks. The sudden movement triggered something in Tashk, the alien launching himself at Ratchet with a snarl, blade leading. Meeting him with his own weapon at the ready, the CMO clashed with the Kruxan, the sparks leaping as the energy blades connected. Pulling his cloak off with his free hand, the smaller of the two swirled the cloth through the air, hoping to use it as a distraction to keep his larger, stronger foe from landing any successful strikes.

Nearby, Blitzwing watched with lips half parted, warring with himself as to which he preferred to win the duel. His logical side berated him for the very thought; being a prisoner of Tashk again meant he would be turned in for the bounty on his head and destroyed. Yet he couldn't shake the memories of invading the Lancet and killing its crew. Prowl mentioned they wanted information, but what exactly had he meant by that? Did the former Autobot second in command and his CMO have contact with their comrades on Earth and Cybertron? The longer the triple changer debated the issue, however, the more aware he became that he needed to make a choice and quickly. Tashk was starting to overwhelm Ratchet, his superior strength letting him press his height advantage. Blitzwing turned away a moment as though to make another break for it, but it was then a wooden beam leaning against a wall caught the corner of his optic.

"You're hardly a match for me!" Tashk sneered as he forced his opponent farther back, his strike nearly knocking the Cybertronian over. "You could have given up and handed the slave over, but now I'll make sure you pay for your mistake with your life!"

Ratchet clenched his dental plates, cycling in more and more air to cool his heated systems. "Shouldn't spend so much time gloating, hairy!"

"Gloating is the right of every victor!" the Kruxan responded, undaunted as he raised his blade for a heavy blow.

"And the precursor to downfall!"

Tashk's head whipped to the right just in time to see a wooden beam come right at him, slamming into his back with enough force to crack itself in half. Barely avoiding a fall to his knees, the big alien grunted in pain, managing an awkward turn to try and plunge his blade into Blitzwing, who still held what remained of his makeshift club. The triple changer dropped the wooden beam and dodged off to one side as best he was able, but the Kruxan was a bit quicker than anticipated, recovering from the missed attack and swinging his blade down at an angle to try and cleave Blitzwing in half.

"Dead or alive, you're still worth a bounty!"

Blitzwing braced himself, but the strike never connected as Ratchet rushed between the two, his own weapon coming up to block. Straining under the strength of the assault, the medic cursed, his knee joints trembling. Both hands gripping the handle of the sword, Tashk leaned in, trying to force his foe to his knees. As the medic's strength began to wan, Blitzwing came in again from the side, one hand reaching up to brace the enemy's weapon, the other seizing Ratchet's right wrist.

"What the slag are you doing?" the CMO demanded. "You can't hold him!"

"Neither can you!" came the harsh reply as the other brought Ratchet's arm about, bringing the blade parallel to the ground. "But in a 'klick or two, it won't matter!"

Before Ratchet could protest further, Blitzwing twisted out from under Tashk's arms, letting the Kruxan press further into his attack than he'd planned. Losing balance, Tashk stumbled forward...just as the triple changer directed Ratchet's blade right into his path. Black fluid spattered to the street as the blue beam lanced through Tashk's midsection, the alien's eyes widening in shock and pain, a strangled cry leaving his half open mouth, the weapon falling from his hands.

"Pride goeth," was all Blitzwing growled before pulling back on Ratchet's arm, causing the CMO to withdraw his blade. Tashk groaned in agony, collapsing to the ground in a twitching heap.

"You killed--!" Ratchet began, but the other dragged him away before he could finish, forcing him to run for the docks again.

"If only!" Blitzwing shot back. "Tashk is harder to kill than an Earthan cockroach! Don't argue, just move!"

As they sprinted up one of the runways towards the Wayfarer, however, they were met halfway by two more Cybertronians in cloaks, both of them armed with rifles.

"Well, if it isn't Blitzwing," Brawn growled through gritted dental plates, trigger finger itching. "And here I thought we'd never get a good chance for payback!"

"Ironhide spilled the oil when Jaraxis came back without you, Ratch." Windcharger leveled his rifle barrel at the triple changer. "We'll knock the 'Con out and take him in from here."

Blitzwing felt his insides sink, somewhat. Foolish, he chided himself. Did you really think two Autobots would be good to their word towards an old enemy? Some things never change. At the very least, perhaps Galvatron will never have me.

"No!" Ratchet's protest startled the three as the medic placed himself bodily between them, his arms held out. "He may be a 'Con, but he also saved my hide. Give him the dignity of walking in on his own two feet."

Brawn huffed. "Don't be an idiot, Ratch. Or have you already forgotten that he's one of the guys who killed us all in the first place? If he saved you from that Kruxan and his crew, it was probably just to keep himself outta trouble. 'Cons like him know that Autobots don't destroy their enemies, just take 'em prisoner. Too bad for Blitzy here...we're not Autobots, anymore."

The medic bristled at that. "But we still uphold the basic Autobot beliefs! Let it GO, Brawn. Prowl wanted him alive and well."

"Prowl," Blitzwing said in low voice from behind the CMO. "He's not followed us back, yet. Zivven..."

Ratchet's optics widened. "Brawn, Windcharger! We left Prowl fighting one of Tashk's crew. You've got to go find him!"

Windcharger frowned. "And leave you with--"

"Wheeljack and I will handle Blitzwing, so go!" the boxy red and white shot back.

Exchanging uneasy glances, the two minibots finally nodded and hurried past the officer and his captive. Ratchet watched them run down the ramps for a moment before heading up into the cargo bay of the shuttle, Blitzwing at his heels. Inside, Wheeljack stood alongside a seated Ironhide, the former still working on repairs, the latter's good shoulder acting as a perch for Jaraxis.

"Ya okay, Ratch?" Ironhide questioned as they moved closer. "You look kinda shaken. Scared the slag outta the rest of us when Jaraxis came back without you."

Ratchet nodded. "Just a bit worn. I sent Brawn and Windcharger to assist Prowl."

"Take over repairs on Ironhide, would you, Ratch?" Wheeljack had set his tools aside and picked up a rifle. "I'll walk our guest here to his new quarters."

Ironhide and Ratchet exchanged glances. A cold tone of voice was not something either were accustomed to hearing from the engineer, but like Windcharger, Wheeljack was another mech who had met his death at the hands of the Decepticon triple changers. Blitzwing merely nodded and put his hands up before him, palms out, his expression surprisingly neutral.

"Don't hurt 'im, 'Jack," Ratchet said as their prisoner was led away. "I might not be standin' here now if not for him. We owe him that much."

Wheeljack paused in leading their captive away. "I won't, but even if I can forgive, it's hard to forget."

Blitzwing turned his head to look at the engineer. "No one's asking you to."

For several nanoklicks, no one moved or spoke. The response from their captive was unexpected, leaving the rest a little uncertain as how to reply. Finally, Wheeljack tapped Blitzwing's back with the barrel of his rifle. "C'mon."

When the two had departed, heading into the halls of the ship, Ironhide glanced at his old friend. "Where is Prowl, anyway?"

"Zivven, that thing with the four eyes, got the drop on us. Prowl stayed to deal with him," Ratchet replied as he picked up on repairs where Wheeljack left off.

"Better hurry up on me, then," the red and black mech grunted. "Got a feelin' our leader's gonna need some attention himself when he gets back. That six legged freak ain't no push over. I just hope Prowl's okay..."

Hopping over to Ratchet's shoulder, Jaraxis chirped in agreement.

-------

Following Prowl's tracking signal, Brawn and Windcharger hurried through the streets with cloaks in place and rifles held tight. The fact that the signal was still active was a favorable sign, but neither minibot let it put them at automatic ease; they'd seen the damage Zivven managed to do to Ironhide. And while Prowl was the best tactician they knew and an excellent swordsman, an unknown foe could often tip the scales in the wrong direction.

As they rounded a corner and entered a dank alley, a disheartening sight greeted them. Slumped up against one side wall, Prowl sat with his head tilted back, his right hand still gripping his deactivated sword. His other arm lay a number of feet away, severed at the elbow.

"Prowl!" Brawn rushed forward first, getting to his leader's side and slinging his rifle over his back so he could get one hand on the other's shoulder. "Prowl, are you still online? Talk to me, buddy!"

"Hn, Brawn." Prowl's optics flickered to life, the mech tilting his chin down so he could look the minibot in the faceplate. "Fight...didn't last too long. Not sure why he didn't finish me, here."

"Let's not worry about that right now," Windcharger responded with a deepening frown as he kneeled nearby. "Ratchet got Blitzwing to the shuttle, so once we're back, we can seal the place up and get you some repairs."

As Brawn helped Prowl to his feet, the strategist grunted in pain, optics shuttering briefly, his legs a bit shaky. Tearing off part of his own cloak, Windcharger tied the makeshift bandage about what remained of Prowl's left arm to staunch the fluid loss. A good amount of energon, hydrolic and other fluids had already escaped the wound, pooling on the ground by their feet. Windcharger then picked up the severed limb, hiding it beneath his cloak.

"Hang in there, mech," Brawn assured the taller bot as he started to lead him out of the alley. "Ratchet'll see to you when we get back with all his usual gripin', I'm sure."

Prowl managed a small smirk. "And as always, I look forward to the quality time spent with our caring surgeon. I trust Ratchet and Blitzwing are undamaged?"

"Looked like it," Brawn responded, trying to keep the growl out of his voice. "But I don't see why we need to go so easy on a Decepticon. Letting him aboard the Wayfarer is risky enough as it is!"

"It's a risk we'll have to take. For now, let's just get back to the docks," the black and white replied.

The trip through the streets and market place was something of a difficult one, Prowl moving slowly due to energy loss and relying on Brawn to keep him from toppling over to one side. By the time they limped up the open cargo bay door of the Wayfarer, Ratchet was finishing up on the rest of Ironhide's interior shoulder repairs, the big red bot getting up as soon as the trio entered to make room for the Junker commander to sit down. More work would need to be done on the old bot, but he knew his wounds were almost superficial compared to the damage dealt to Prowl.

"Close up all the doors and set the locks," Prowl ordered as Ratchet began repairs, the medic cursing under his breath. "Don't open them again unless it's to accept the rest of the supply deliveries. As soon as the last of it arrives, we'll depart."

"Slaggit, Prowl," Ironhide growled as Brawn and Windcharger hurried to close the main door. "Tell me ya at least made it blow for blow on this one! That armored lizard didn't get away clean, did he?"

Prowl shook his head. "I managed to hit him with a few acid pellet shots and take off some of his armor, but nothing as damaging as what he dealt out to me. That one...a killer to his core, it would seem. We cannot afford to underestimate any of Tashk's crew members."

"I'll finish some basic patch and weld to secure your open fluid lines and then move you into the ship's medbay, Prowl," Ratchet said as he worked, wrist tools swivelling about as needed to get at the torn remains of the bot's arm. "This will definitely take more than a few megacycles to fix."

"I imagined that would be the case." Glancing to the other mech, the tactician frowned. "You'll be in charge while I'm out of action, Ironhide. I take it since Wheeljack is not here that he is currently guarding Blitzwing?"

"Yeah. You want me to check on 'em?"

"If you would, please."

Once Ironhide departed, Prowl sagged further as though all his intakes had suddenly released a held breath. Ratchet eyed his leader in concern as the mech let the true extent of his fatigue finally show.

"You're in worse shape than you let on. Lost a lot of fluids... That Zivven slagger really knew what he was doing, cutting your arm at the angle he did, just over the elbow joint so your systems would have a harder time trying to regulate circulation and minimize loss. Just what we needed - an assassin who specializes in Cybertronians."

The strategist nodded, fighting off the numb feeling that was overtaking what remained of his arm and shoulder. "Information on the situation at home may not be the only thing we'll have to question Blitzwing about if he's been a previous prisoner of Tashk's hunters. We've made some deadly enemies and if we don't get some information on them, we're looking at a very rough ride in the time to come."

-------

Slithering along through the market place towards the docks, Zivven followed the smell of spilt vital fluids to the fallen form of his commander, the big Kruxan having managed to drag himself behind a pile of crates to hide. Laying on his side, eyes half-lidded, tongue lolling, Tashk uttered a breathy gasp as his assassin approached.

"Get back...to regeneration chamber," the large Kruxan managed to grunt out. "Call...Silth back..."

Zivven cocked his helmeted head to one side, sending a secure transmission in code to the the cybernetic Kruxan before sliding up under Tashk's near arm. Pushing himself up with his free hand, Tashk scrambled weakly to his feet, hunched over despite the assistance. Hand moving to cover the wound in his gut, he coughed up a bit of black fluid.

"Life signs failing," he gasped in a strangely monotone voice. "Hurry..."

Guiding Tashk through the crowd, Zivven headed for their own craft, the Everdark, located on the other side of the docks. When they arrived, limping through the door and trailing black blood behind them, Silth was waiting for them, chattering his pointed teeth nervously as he joined the assassin in helping Tashk into their medical bay.

"Curse that Decepticon!" Silth growled as he rushed to a console connected to a very large chamber and began to input commands. "And those other Cybertronians... Quickly, Zivven. Get him moved in before the vitals drop further."

Zivven complied with a nod, edging Tashk inside and then sliding the door shut with one clawed paw. As the locks fell into place, Silth activated the device, a respirator falling into place over their leader's head as the chamber began to fill with a murky green fluid.

"It will be a full Kruxan solar cycle before we can let him out again. Are there any orders, Zivven?" the cyborg questioned.

Moving up alongside another console and screen, Zivven sat back on his hind legs and tapped a command in with one claw, the ship's external cameras swivelling to zoom in and focus on the enemy craft down on the other side of the docks. The creature's eyes glowed a malevolent yellow as he eyed the target.

Silth watched, nodding. "They will not stay long. When they leave, however, we'll be right behind them."

Zivven nodded in turn, then shifted the screen to an inside view of the Everdark, the cameras in the brig showing the captive Occan in one of the smaller cells.

"Veras..." Silth hissed before turning to leave the room. "It's about time we found another use for her. Are you coming, Zivven? I am not as good at convincing that ugly Novan as you are."

Dropping to all fours, the assassin scurried out after the Kruxan, overhead sickels twitching in anticipation.

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Bonus art - Tashk sketch - (Copy, paste and remove the spaces to view) - **www. sylversword. com/tf/tashk-sketch2.jpg**

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_Next chapter: Ignorance may have been bliss._


	5. Chapter 4: What Death Spared Them

_Disclaimer: The Transformers and all related material belong to Hasbro, concept originally created and licensed through Takara Co. LTD. All original characters (c) C.R. Majors._

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**Running the Gauntlet**

_Chapter 4: "What Death Spared Them"_

The Wayfarer's departure from Moshan Port was a sullen one, Wheeljack and Ironhide at the main set of controls while Prowl monitored the take off from the command seat. Both injured mechs had been more or less repaired, but there were still some outer housing damages that Ratchet would need to work on later. But time for such work was not something the crew felt they had in excess; all agreed that the more distance they put between themselves and the crew of bounty hunters, the better. And despite the grudge held by many of the Junkers in regards to Blitzwing, they had no desire to lose their "guest" after paying out so much and fighting so hard to keep him.

"What's our next destination, Ratchet?" Prowl inquired as the shuttle cleared the planet's atmosphere.

"A sizeable space port called Bluepoint," came the response as the medic glanced over the star map information on a side screen, the boxy red and white seated at a monitoring terminal with Jaraxis on one shoulder. "According to the data we managed to scrape up on Krux, this place should be a good refuel point. Not too expensive and with enough traffic to get us more info on our whereabouts in regards to both Earth and Cybertron."

"Set course, Wheeljack," Prowl ordered. He then tapped the communications device attached to the chair. "Windcharger, status report?"

Buzzing to life, the speaker echoed with the minibot's voice as he replied. "Cargo's still locked down. We're good, there. Brawn and I are currently heading for the special room we set up for our guest. We should have him up to the command deck in a few cycles."

The black and white nodded, more to himself than to anyone else. "Roger. We'll be waiting for you. As soon as the interrogation is over, we'll settle back into our normal shift routines."

"Hey, Prowl." Ironhide glanced over one shoulder, an optic narrowed. "What're we gonna do with that hunk a space junk once we're done with him? I think I can speak for just 'bout everyone here when I say I ain't exactly comfortable with a 'Con on board."

"At worst, we'll leave him at the next drop point," Prowl replied, voice steady. "At best, we'll keep him. He may be of use even after giving up what information he has on Earth and Cybertron's current state."

The big red mech grunted. "Of use how? You suggestin' we keep him as a Junker? Prowl, that slagger is one'a the reasons we're all here in the first place!"

"You are jumping to conclusions in regards to my intentions," the Junker leader said coolly. "However, a good strategist can never overlook any possibility."

As Ironhide proceeded to protest further, Ratchet glanced over to where Wheeljack sat, watching his friend's reactions to the discussion carefully. The engineer was making it a point to pretend he wasn't hearing a good portion of what was said, but something about his rigid posture told the medic that he was torn, internally. For as long as Ratchet had known 'Jack, the mech had been the good natured sort; the optimist to foil his own bouts of pessimism. But facing up to one of his killers was causing the engineer problems. It was Wheeljack had said, earlier; no doubt the Autobot in him wanted to forgive, but the war torn Junker could not seem to forget.

"Ya okay, 'Jack?"

Wheeljack glanced over at the whispered question before turning to stare blankly at his own console again, head fins flashing a frustrated white. "I...really don't know, Ratch. I just don't. Ironhide's right in a lot of ways, but I guess... I want to believe maybe Blitzwing's non-violent behavior is a sign of real change. He didn't give me a lick of trouble while I walked him down to the 'holding cell.' And we could use the help, but it's a big risk. After everything we've been through, we're too far along to let one mistake ruin it all. It sounds selfish, I know."

"It isn't so much selfish as being cautious. But I'd reserve judgment until Blitzwing finally tells us about what's gone on and Prowl tries to make a decision from there," Ratchet said quietly.

As Wheeljack nodded once in response, the deck doors opened with a soft hiss to admit Windcharger, Brawn and their shoddy looking captive, Blitzwing's wrists bound with energy chains. The three approached the middle of the floor, the minibots glancing to their commander for orders.

"Have a seat, Blitzwing," Prowl said, nodding towards a nearby chair. "We've got a lot of ground to cover."

Stealing a quick glance at all present before doing as told, the triple changer frowned. "So this is it, is it? The whole crew?"

Prowl nodded before turning his attention to Wheeljack. "Course coordinates set?"

"Yeah. Engaging autopilot for the time being," the engineer answered before turning around in his own chair to face the gathering.

"We must be heading for a far point if you've got this much time on your hands," Blitzwing observed, tone even.

"Far enough," Prowl admitted. "Unless you would prefer to start from the beginning - the attack on Autobot City that contributed to all our deaths - I'll start with a series of questions."

"So I have a choice in this... Story time, or interrogation."

The black and white sat back in his seat. "Precisely. Which will it be?"

Blitzwing said nothing for a long moment, eying the head Junker before letting his gaze wander to the medic and the strange creature perched on his shoulder. "I know I'm not really in a position to make any deals, but how about I tell you what I know in exchange for what you know? Mechs don't just come back from the dead on their own."

"What we know is none of your Pit damned business, you-" Brawn began, but Prowl waved him off with one hand, interrupting the smaller bot.

"The way I see it, we're all Cybertronians here, separated from our native planet. We are no longer members of the Autobot faction and from the looks of it, Blitzwing has either left or been cast out of the Decepticons. Excluding Jaraxis, we are also only a crew of six plus one captive, possibly on the run from a band of bounty hunters. We don't have time for insults and arguments."

"You're on the run from Tashk whether you like it or not," Blitzwing interjected with a scowl. "No one walks away from him. No one. He's been after me for months. And now that you have me, he'll chase you until you either give me up or die again in fighting to keep me."

"You said Galvatron put the bounty on your head. Why?" Ratchet asked, speaking up for the first time since the Decepticon's arrival on the bridge.

Something of a twisted smile crossed the triple changer's faceplate. "Because I defied him, that's why. You don't cross Galvatron and live. If I hadn't fled into space, I would have been terminated by his lackeys a long time ago."

"And what did you do to earn his wrath?" Prowl inquired.

"He made a pact with the Quintessons to take Cybertron. Those greedy, five faced, tentacled freaks have been eying the planet for the longest time. They tricked him into thinking there was such a thing as a Decepticon Matrix when really all they wanted to do was set off a device on the planet that would put all Autobots and Decepticons into stasis lock. I found out what they were up to and tried to warn Galvatron, but the mech is insane. Ever since Unicron created him using Megatron's shell, basic logic's just a long lost memory. In order to save Cybertron, I turned around and warned the Autobots and that human pet of theirs, the only one not put into stasis when the device was turned on. He disabled it, freed us all and we chased the Quintessons off. But Galvatron deemed me a traitor for my actions and swore he'd see me destroyed for what I'd done."

"Unicron?" Ironhide exclaimed. "Ain't that a name out of the Covenant of Primus?"

Blitzwing turned his attention towards the red mech. "If you're not so religiously inclined, he's the God of Destruction, the Chaos Bringer. Devourer of Worlds, enemy of Primus. He was destroyed by your Matrix after consuming both Cybertronian moons and then attacking the planet, itself. Anyone not familiar with the name immediately found out the hard way when that planet-sized wrecking machine came through."

A heavy silence filled the air following his statement, the rest almost afraid to speak. Finally, Prowl sat forward, elbows resting on his knee joints. "I think you'd better start from the beginning."

"Very well." Blitzwing shifted his weight a little before continuing, as though to settle in for what was sure to be a lengthy tale. "After the attack on Autobot City began, a transmission from one of the communications centers was sent to Moonbase One, requesting backup. While the fighting continued on into the night and lasted through the morning, the call for help was answered by another Autobot shuttle manned by Optimus Prime, the Dinobots and a few others. Prime managed to turn the tide of the attack, taking Megatron on in a duel that ended in a near draw. We were forced to retreat, but Prime didn't survive his fight with Megatron."

"You're lyin'!" Ironhide snarled, suddenly on his feet, fists clenched. "Prime wouldn't fall so easily to the likes of that slime bucket!"

As Brawn also took a step forward, growling, tension rising quickly in the room, Blitzwing shook his head. "I've got no reason to lie. But if you can't accept that your leader wasn't perfection incarnate, than I don't know what to tell you. ...you of all mechs should know that we all have to die, sometime."

"Then what the slag are we going home to?" Windcharger demanded, feeling as though half his fuel lines had suddenly tied in knots. "Prime dead and both Moonbases destroyed? Cybertron in possible ruins?"

"What, indeed..." Prowl shuttered his optics, fighting down rising nausea. "But if Optimus fell in battle, the Matrix had to have been passed on, especially if it was used against Unicron."

"It was given to Ultra Magnus," Blitzwing explained. "But he couldn't hold onto it. While riding Astrotrain back to Cybertron, it was decided among our ranks that we needed to lighten the load and all the severely wounded where dumped. In a hardly shocking display of betrayal, Starscream threw Megatron out with the rest. But that came back to bite him in the aft later; Megatron encountered Unicron while floating about with the rest of the space junk and was reformatted into Galvatron. Those thrown out with him were changed into his new minions. Galvatron then reclaimed his position as Decepticon leader by turning Starscream into a pile of ash. His next move was to take the Matrix from Ultra Magnus as a faithful servant to Unicron, but when the Chaos Bringer began to attack Cybertron, a that punk of a mech Hot Rod stole the Matrix back and used it. The power of the Matrix not only destroyed Unicron, but reformatted Hot Rod into the new Autobot leader - Rodimus Prime. When I betrayed Galvatron, Rodimus asked me if I would willingly join the Autobot side, but I declined. I was more concerned about the consequences of my actions and fled Cybertron. Besides... Even if I don't agree with every plan Galvatron's madness creates, I'm no Autobot."

"And the time span, here?" Prowl asked, optics still shuttered.

"It's been well over one Earth year since the attack on Autobot City. It took almost that long for the Decepticons to reorganize after the destruction of Unicron, so it's been about five months since my own betrayal. As far as I know, the war is still being fought with Galvatron and Rodimus Prime heading up either faction."

For several nanoklicks after, no one spoke, each Junker sitting silently with their own thoughts, fuel tanks churning their contents in sickening waves. Ironhide looked as if he were about to be ill, resting one elbow on his console with his face buried in his hand. Brawn and Wheeljack had resigned themselves to staring blankly at the floor as though not sure what do or say in regards to any of the news, the shock killing their ability to react any other way. Windcharger stared at the opposite wall before looking to Prowl as though seeking some consolation, but the black and white still had his shutters down, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. Ratchet sat with his head inclined towards Jaraxis, seeking consolation in his bond with the Tarthan, who whimpered softly and placed one hand on the side of the medic's helm as feelings of sorrow and helplessness passed over their link.

Finally, Prowl lifted his shutters, fighting to keep his voice steady as he spoke again. "Is Jazz still functional?"

"As far as I know," came the dull response, Blitzwing meeting the other's gaze. "His role seemed diminished after Unicron's destruction, perhaps because Rodimus chose to rely more heavily on Ultra Magnus, Springer and Kup as officers."

"Then Jazz will be the mech we'll seek as first liaison once we get home again," Prowl decided with a heavy, almost shaky sigh. "In the meantime, I think we'd best get back to our normal shift routines. We still have a long way to go."

Standing up despite how weak his legs felt, Ratchet put on as stern an expression as he could manage. "Get some rest, Prowl. You're still recovering from Zivven's attack. You as well, Ironhide."

"Normally I would argue the point as I still would like more information on our pursuers, but not right now. We should have a little left to us before that information becomes absolute necessity. Thank you, Ratchet." Gaining his feet as well, the Junker commander looked to Ironhide and then Wheeljack. "We'll take first shift in recharge. Brawn, Windcharger, if you could stay up with Ratchet?"

"Yeah, sure," Windcharger replied, glad to have something to distract him for the time being. "What about the prisoner?"

"I'll escort him back down to his room if you two will watch the bridge," the medic offered.

"So I take it there won't be an exchange of information?" Blitzwing questioned as he stood up, expression sour. "Why am I not surprised?"

Walking over, Ratchet put one hand on the triple changer's shoulder and began to lead him out. "I'll explain everything on the way down. I was the first one resurrected, so I can probably explain better than the rest. Now come on... We got a schedule to keep."

As much as it hurt in some ways to go over the entire ordeal on Tarth again, it was almost easier to discuss that topic as opposed to dwelling on the information about Prime and Cybertron. The medic did the best he could to explain things as he walked Blitzwing down to the specially reinforced room the others had set-up when a satisfactory cell could not be constructed in so short an amount of time. Ratchet attempted to leave out all unnecessary details, but the one about L'Ranna was not one he could omit.

"A member of the Shadow Covenant?" Blitzwing exclaimed as he sat down on the berth in his room, Ratchet still standing in the open doorway. "And she thought she could be another Chaos Bringer?"

"Her connection to the astral plane told her the first had fallen, or so she said. I remember she mentioned our Matrix was what did it. At the time, we really didn't know what to make of that information. But now it all makes a lot more sense."

"So what are you going to do with all the information now that you have it?"

"What can we do, except go home and see what's still left?"

"And I suppose I'm along for the ride, even though the whole reason I am out in the middle of nowhere is because I left on purpose to save my own life?"

Ratchet shrugged. "It's up to Prowl, but more than likely if we do keep you, it's not like we're gonna let anyone slag you, either. We did, after all, pay out several grand in credits for you. At the very least, you're an investment."

"What an unusually callous thing for a healer to say," Blitzwing retorted, failing to hide a bit of a sneer. "Still, I may be alive now, but for how much longer? You'd be better off kicking me out into space or just turning me over to Tashk. It'd save your hides."

Ratchet huffed, one hand reaching to scratch Jaraxis behind an ear as the Tarthan whimpered over the depressing conversation. "In my mind, enough have died. And a crew of six is barely enough to keep the Wayfarer running on two shifts. You might be a runaway 'Con, but like Prowl said before, we're not exactly Autobots, anymore. The war might still be going, but not here. Not now. We'll never forget what you did to us, but we can't deny your self sacrifice to save both sides and Cybertron, either. The two sides are just factions, not a definition of black an' white. There're shades of gray on both ends and in between. ...the Junkers are shades of gray."

"Fair enough. But that leaves me with two questions."

"So shoot, already. I gotta get back to the command deck."

"One, is it out of the question to give an imprisoned mech some energon?"

Tsk'ing a bit, Ratchet unsubspaced a small flask and tossed it to the triple changer. "It's not the best as we don't always have access to everything we need for processing, thus causing us to rely on dry recharge. Now what's the second?"

"Then I guess I'll have to savor every drop." Blitzwing shook the flask as if to measure the amount he'd been granted. "The second? If I end up a 'Junker', do I have to wear one of those goofy looking scarves?"

"We could always set you up with a pretty little helm bow, instead."

"Heh. Slag off."

"Same to you." Stepping out of the doorway, Ratchet reached for the control pad. "Someone will be down to check on you, later. So just drink up and relax in the meantime."

As the door slid shut, Blitzwing uncapped the flask and took a long swig, intakes exhaling in relief as the energon hit his fuel tank. Wiping his mouth on the back of his free hand, he leaned back against the wall behind the berth before reaching to feel the spot on his chest where his insignia had been torn out. His first reaction to losing it had been one of rage and indignity, but the more he thought about it, the more he wasn't sure he cared anymore.

-------

"Course trajectory plotted!" Silth announced as he walked from the navigation terminal towards the command chair. "They appear to be heading for Bluepoint."

Zivven glanced up from where he stood by the pilot drone, eyes narrowing.

"Follow them," Tashk hissed from the command chair, teeth bared, one hand unconsciously moving to cover the recently healed wound in his stomach. "And make sure Veras is still working! Bluepoint will be the final stop for those Cybertronians. I want that made certain!"

Silth bowed before allowing a sly smile to play over his twisted lips. "And how would you like the strike to play out, commander?"

"Infiltration is the only way. If what we have does the job, half the shuttle crew will no doubt be torn to shreds by their own comrades. The rest...will fall when their insides burn into ash."

"And their prisoner?"

"The bounty declared him wanted alive, but at this point, we can't afford to be picky." Tashk grinned. "Besides, Galvatron's complaints will mean little in the end. He'll be too busy with other problems."

"Aye, commander." Cackling to himself, the smaller Kruxan hurried from the bridge, heading for the brig.

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_Next chapter: Hatred can be infectious._


	6. Chapter 5: Infiltration

_Disclaimer: The Transformers and all related material belong to Hasbro, concept originally created and licensed through Takara Co. LTD. All original characters (c) C.R. Majors._

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**Running the Gauntlet**

_Chapter 5: "Infiltration"_

"We've nearly reached Bluepoint, Ironhide."

"Ya make it sound like it matters."

Ratchet grunted in disapproval before cuffing the other mech upside the back of the head with one open palm. "It should. I know you and Prowl have been taking all this hard, worse than the rest of us, but it's no excuse to slack off, now. Been three Earth days since we got the bad news, so we need to start pullin' it together. We're still goin' back and we still need to trade for supplies to make sure we get there. So up, ya old heap. You, Prowl, Windcharger and Brawn are supposed to be the ones goin' out this time."

The big red bot got to his feet without a word about the shot to his cranial unit, the chair by Blitzwing's door creaking as he left it. "I know I shouldn't be actin' like this, Ratch, but...I just feel like I shoulda been there for 'im. Like I coulda done somethin' to make things turn out different. I was supposed to be his bodyguard."

"How do you think I feel? I'm was the slagging CMO, for Primus' sake. Things mighta been completely different if we'd all been there, but we can't be sure. Now quit sulking and get up to the command deck. Maybe you and Prowl can commiserate over some high-grade once we hit port."

Ironhide shrugged, but managed the tiniest of smirks. "Prowl? High-grade? Yeah, maybe. Mech's hurtin' bad, too, I know. Just don't show it so much. But maybe some good energon'll help numb him up a bit. Don't take anything too hard yourself, though, Ratch. The old days'er long gone an' ya ain't foolin' us anymore with the tough mech act."

As the other Junker left the hall, Ratchet sighed before parking his aft in the chair. Ironhide was, of course, correct in that the medic was no exception in the grief they'd all felt since learning of Prime's fate. The shift after the triple changer's report, Wheeljack had shown up on the command deck with the less than pleasant odor of inefficient fuel burning about him. Systems stressed and not running at peak performance, he had spent his downtime unable to recharge properly. Prowl returned shortly thereafter, rubbing his shuttered optics with one hand, claiming that he had not rested well, either. Ratchet, however, could see the traces of optic fluid still lining the undersides of the strategist's lower optic lids. The story had been much the same with Ironhide, though the red and black mech was simply grouchier and gruffer than usual, losing his temper over every little thing and throwing profanity about as if tomorrow would never come. Brawn and Windcharger kept to themselves, sullen and moody. The former was much more prone to unnecessary aggression over small problems, however, while the latter just seemed downright depressed, unwilling to speak unless spoken to. But despite all their efforts to hide their own individual periods of mourning, all six mechs were well aware of one anothers' tears behind closed doors. The shifts between the report and the arrival at Bluepoint came and went slowly, the time dragging. More than once, Brawn had been caught pacing on the command deck, muttering about how he wished Tashk would hurry up and make his next move. In a way, everyone agreed with the minibot's sentiments. Suddenly, battle seemed inviting. Anything to channel their pent up emotions.

"Ratchet tired," Jaraxis observed quietly from his perch on the medic's shoulder, his ears tilted forward.

"I haven't had a decent recharge cycle since Blitzwing gave his report. You know that."

"Bad dreams?"

Ratchet arched an optic ridge, frowning. The only problem with being linked to the Tarthan meant that it was hard to keep secrets. "Yeah, sometimes. Mostly 'bout the old days."

"Want to talk?" Jaraxis questioned, tail curling around the back of the other's neck.

"Not at the moment. Feel more like sleeping, really."

"Ratchet sleep. I watch Blitzwing."

"Better if we both watch 'im."

Jaraxis pressed his forehead to the Junker's near cheek before curling up on the mech's shoulder. Tail wrapping around the rest of him like a cat, the Tarthan leaning against Ratchet's neck as he settled down to wait out their shift on guard duty.

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The docking procedure at Bluepoint went off without a hitch, the Wayfarer secured and locked down with a minimal amount of time and effort. Leaving Wheeljack on the command deck to watch the craft while Ratchet stayed down in the halls to guard Blitzwing, Prowl, Ironhide, Brawn and Windcharger disembarked in their cloaks to order up some supplies on what scrap and credits were left. Bluepoint being a fair-sized port, it didn't take them long to find what was needed, though it was difficult to bargain with the local merchants who knew that, in some cases, they were like the "last chance gas station" in the middle of a desert before an incredibly long stretch of barren highway. Only able to acquire some of what they needed on current funds, the Junkers headed for the nearest bar to retire to a corner table and drink their troubles away.

"I didn't like the looks'a that two headed dealer," Ironhide grumbled as he sat down heavily. "I don't think he even knew what he was talkin' about half the time."

"Given the fact one of his heads was completely insane, I'd say that's a fair bet," Brawn snorted as he joined the larger mech.

Not long after they'd seated themselves, a waitress dressed in a full black body suit made of some kind of spandex like material came to take their orders. She was smaller than Windcharger and looked like the hairless equivalent of an Earth otter, minus the tail. All four mechs took shots of high-grade, two of them well aware that upon returning to the shuttle, they'd be hitting recharge, anyway.

"We should probably bring something back for Ratchet and Wheeljack," Windcharger suggested shortly after their rounds were brought to the table. "Because I don't know about you guys, but I don't like the idea of a cranky medic working on me if anything happens."

"As opposed to a tanked one?" Ironhide inquired with a tiny smirk.

Brawn managed a dry chuckle. "Like he hasn't worked under the influence before, or under hangover."

"Eh, we'll order 'em up somethin' before we head back. Make it ' to go'," Ironhide decided before glancing at Prowl, who hadn't said a word aside from his order since arriving at the bar. "Hey, Prowl. Ya alright? You've hardly taken more'n a sip off your high-grade."

The strategist looked up, a distracted grunt his only answer at first before he realized what he'd been asked. "What? Oh... Yes, Ironhide. I'm fine. I just got a little lost in my own thoughts."

"Eh, no use lyin' about it," Brawn said before downing the rest of his own drink in one shot. "You're still thinkin' about the same thing the rest of us are. Not like it does anyone any good. We can't change a thing."

Their leader nodded, but his doorwings drooped a bit, nonetheless. "It all just makes me wonder what we're going home to and, as your commander, I will feel responsible if going back puts us in a bad situation. The information we have is months old and much can change, even over that short period of time."

"Not like we have any place else TO go, except maybe back to Tarth." Windcharger shrugged. "But we all wanna know what's going on now, Prowl. Somethin' tells me that even if we'd been told our entire side had been wiped out, we'd still be going back just to be sure. Plus...there's still the humans to think about. From the sounds of it, Spike was the last human ally of ours that Blitzwing saw. What about Carly and Daniel? And Chip and Raoul, even though they'd kinda dropped out of things and stayed behind on Earth most of the time?"

"Shortstop's right. An' if we do go back an' it don't look good, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. We been operatin' like that since we got our second chance on Tarth, haven't we?" Ironhide added.

"In a way, we have," Prowl agreed, glancing over those present. "I feel foolish spending so much time in mourning, but I suppose I had let myself imagine that things would be different on our return. You elected me your leader, now, but a small part of me hoped that perhaps the war would be over when we got back and we could simply re-integrate as Cybertronians and I could hand the reigns over to Optimus."

"Nothin' wrong with having hoped for anything. A lot of us did, I think," Windcharger said, managing a small, reassuring smile. "Nothing wrong with still hoping, either."

As Ironhide rested one hand on his shoulder, Prowl nodded. Vorns ago, he never would have admitted such feelings in front of others. Primus, he might never have even been able to come to grips with thoughts such as those he had, now. His time on Tarth had made him more prone to emotion; Mira's influence helped change him. Sometimes he wondered if it really was for the better, but then he recalled that Prime had been much the same way. Logical, but emotional enough to interact with his troops on a personal level. Paying attention to his own feelings was not necessarily a weakness, Prowl reminded himself.

As if reading his mind, Ironhide squeezed his shoulder. "Ya ain't got the Matrix, Prowl, but yer still our 'Prime'. An' yer doin' fine."

Lips finally quirking into a smile, albeit something of a sad one, the Junker leader nodded before lifting his glass for a drink.

-------

Not long after the Everdark glided into port, the half cybernetic form of Silth exited through a back hatch and slithered along the ground on all fours up towards the dock checkpoint. Bluepoint was a space port he knew well; Tashk's crew had stopped there several times for not only refueling, but on certain "business matters." The saucer shaped port was, for the most part, covered by a large silver and blue dome that gave the place its name. Orbiting a small planet, Bluepoint glinted bright blue against the brown hued surface of the body behind it. It was a mostly modern checkpoint, constantly active no matter the shift, no matter the time of year on its "host planet." Owned by a wealthy merchant who now dealt mostly in the trafficking of goods (some of which were no doubt illegal), the miniature city was metal, plastics and other synthetic materials through and through. The only organics in it were those that were either sold or those doing the dealing.

Once he had confirmed the Everdark's identification code with security, Silth headed further down the dock, his communicator active as he received constant updates from Tashk on the locations and status of the other ships in port. It was not data they should legally have access to, but a few electronically transferred credits placed with the right security contact in advance made obtaining it easy enough.

"Our trackers show their ship in port Delta," Tashk hissed over the line. "Security reports that they've asked for merchant clearance to allow local traders access to their rented dock. Use that to your advantage and get inside while you can."

Silth grunted in response and altered his direction as necessary, making his way down the main way towards the entrance to Delta. Each section of docks was divided into ports, some larger than others depending on the location around Bluepoint. Each individual dock also varied in size, as some crafts required more room than others. But all of them required lockdown once crafts entered the fields that separated dead space from the pressure controlled interior of the ports. Some space ports still used connecting tunnels and air locks that would connect to the main doors of shuttles, but Bluepoint was large and sophisticated enough to support technology and energy levels to do away with such trifles in favor of fields.

As he entered port Delta, Silth caught sight of the Cybertronian shuttle and ducked behind a small stack of crates. From that vantage point, he was able to see that the back cargo bay was open, a single mech standing by the entrance, conversing with what looked like a merchant. A hover transport unit waited nearby, tended by a few more aliens, a couple of metallic barrels and crates waiting to be offloaded.

This was going to be a bit easier than he first thought.

-------

Wheeljack sighed, trying to hold his temper in check while listening to the two headed alien in front of him babble on about how he did not have the supplies Prowl had requested after all and had therefore had to replace them with slightly higher grade materials, which of course warranted a shift in price. Normally, the engineer would simply seek out what he considered a fair compromise, but like the rest of the Junkers, stress was taking its toll. He supposed he should count himself fortunate that he remembered to download all the local language codecs before answering the outside call that supplies were incoming, otherwise all the clicks and hoots the merchant was making would be little more than garbled sound bites. Hopefully the others would return, soon. Wheeljack was starting to feel the need for a little high-grade, himself.

"Once hundred credits more, and that's it," he finally said, ignoring the dirty look the merchant gave in return. "We can't afford more than that, so take it or leave it."

"You very cheap!" the alien responded, tone indignant. "You thnk processing chemicals come so cheap? Those barrels worth four hundred more!"

Wheeljack's headfins flared an irritated yellow. "And according to the invoice you just gave me, you told Prowl you had a slightly lower grade for less. You already took his credits. I'm not gonna pay for your warehouse error. One hundred more. That's it."

The less articulate of the two heads squawked in outrage, but the other merely narrowed its eyes. The mech was twice his size and getting more impatient by the moment. "Fine. One hundred. But we no do business with you anymore! I get workers unload for you, but then I tell others in chemical block about you. They no sell you anything!"

As the alien stomped off, the engineer huffed. "Well then, thank Primus we won't be back anytime soon."

Walking down the cargo bay deck, he headed for the transport unit to make sure none of the workers "accidentally" spilled anything.

-------

The second the mech's feet left the ramp, Silth crawled up from underneath it and hurried inside the cargo bay, making a b-line for the nearest open door. If there was only one Cybertronian overseeing the unloading of supplies, the rest were probably in the merchant or entertainment blocks of Bluepoint. Darting through the doorway, the Kruxan took a moment to get his bearings. The crew quarters were probably nearby, as the shuttle was not that large and it seemed most of the salvaging equipment was also being kept in the cargo bay. Unfortunately, this meant he would have to waste time trying doors one after the other until he located what he was searching for and finished his task.

Heading up one level, Silth found himself in a long corridor, its length broken periodically by doors. He licked his lips, examining each one briefly and noting that the control boxes next to each one were not set up for high security measures. There was, however, a tiny camera set up in one corner of the hallway. Flattening himself against the floor, Silth crept up closer before extending a tiny laser from one forearm and severing one of the exposed wires in back of the surveillance device. Turning to the nearest door, he stood up and glanced over the control box. It only took him a few moments to figure which button caused the door to slide open, revealing a single mech's quarters, a berth pushed up against one wall with a desk and set of shelves against the opposing wall.

"Target located," the Kruxan reported, speaking lowly into his comm unit. "Beginning the operation."

Entering the room, he crouched by one of the recharge berth's panels and pried it open with his claws. Silth then took a port cable from his belt and connected it to the portable computer unit strapped to his other arm. Normally, it would have taken some extra time to configure the connection between the two so they would be able to "talk" to one another, but Veras' handiwork with the cable and programming on the Kruxan's end had fixed the issue before it had even been a problem. Snickering to himself, Silth began a program upload.

_Foolish, foolish mechs. So trusting of one another, they don't even lock their own doors. This will teach you not to interfere with what doesn't concern you..._

-------

Jaraxis sat bolt upright, third eye opening. He stared at the wall across from him as though looking through it, ears swiveling about like tiny radar. For almost a cycle, he remained as still as a statue, listening hard against almost complete silence. The only sound was that of Ratchet's systems running quietly, almost more vibrations than anything as the medic dozed lightly in his chair, head tilted forward a bit. Growling softly, the Tarthan bit his companion on the chin and jumped down to the floor, scurrying to the end of the hall and leaping up to the control box to get the door open.

Startled awake by the sudden nip to his faceplate, Ratchet sat forward and reactivated his optics just in time to see the hall door open, Jaraxis jumping back to the floor and scrambling out. Rubbing the back of his helm, he stood up, not fully understanding the urgency the other was suddenly projecting over their link.

_Jaraxis, what's going on?_

_Danger!_ came the response. _Intruder!_

That was all Ratchet needed to hear to get him moving. Sliding through the door before it could shut again, he pulled one of his pistols from his hip holsters and followed Jaraxis' "mental signals" down into the crew quarters sector. The door leading into the hall was already open when he arrived, the shrill chattering of an angry Tarthan greeting him as he entered. Not two doors down, the mangy form of Silth crouched, hackles raised as he jabbed a silver cutlass at Jaraxis, who danced on all fours just barely out of reach, tail lashing like that of an angry feline.

"You!" Ratchet growled as he raised his weapon. "I owe you an aft whipping!"

At the sight of a much larger foe, the Kruxan's single eye widened before he turned tail and scampered down the hall in the other direction. Ratchet fired after him, but only managed to graze Silth's right haunch in an attempt to merely wound instead of kill. Cursing inwardly, he pounded after his enemy, leaving Jaraxis behind in the corridor.

"Wheeljack, where are you?" Ratchet demanded as he opened a communicator link. "One of Tashk's lackeys is on board and heading down one level for the cargo bay!"

"Slag! Keep herding 'im my way, then!" came the response, the engineer's tone grating.

As Silth all but exploded into the cargo bay through the same door he'd used earlier, he caught sight of an enraged mech charging up the ramp towards him, a pair of glowing energon knives in hand. Behind the Kruxan, Ratchet was still in hot pursuit, a shot from the medic nearly piercing the cyborg's shoulder as he hurried to get away from the doorway. Claws screeching over the metal flooring, Silth tore off in Wheeljack's direction, aiming to dive between the mech's legs as he prepared to attack.

"Come on, you stinkin' furball!" Wheeljack challenged, headfins flashing orange as he swept in for a slashing strike.

Silth ducked under the blade and rammed his right shoulder into the engineer's left leg, causing him to lose balance and topple forward. But the Kruxan's escape was anything but clean; in going down, Wheeljack shifted his weight and turned, one energon blade slashing across Silth's right haunch and carving off a section of it before in continuing in an arching path to the side, catching fur, flesh and bone. With a despairing, pained howl, Silth faltered to his right before managing to find his balance and move into a limping run on all fours, leaving a trail of purple blood in his wake. Fleeing down the ramp, he headed out onto the docks, not sparing a single glance back despite Ratchet's repeated attempts to hit him with photon fire as he dodged and ducked behind crates and transports.

"Of all the fraggin'-!" Ratchet began, but cut himself off as he turned back towards his fellow Junker. "'Jack, you alright?"

Sitting up, the other deactivated and subspaced his weapons. "Better'n than our friend, there. Looks like I just contributed to his hardware acquisition."

Ratchet frowned as he glanced down at the bit of metal and the remains of Silth's severed tail before resetting his communicator to contact the others.

-------

"Was anything taken?"

"Not that we can see. Jaraxis found 'im in the quarters corridor."

Prowl glanced from Ratchet to the Tarthan on the medic's shoulder. "You got there before Ratchet did. Where was the Kruxan?"

"Hallway," came the simple answer, Jaraxis tilting his head to one side.

The others muttered amongst themselves where they all stood on the command deck, aggravated with both the situation and having to return to the shuttle sooner than planned. Prowl raised one hand to quiet his crew before addressing their Tarthan ally again.

"Did you see him come out of any of the rooms? Did he have anything that didn't belong to him?"

"No." Jaraxis flattened his ears back. "Just heard sound in head. Like claws on floor. Breathing..."

Ratchet looked from his companion to his commander. "His visions are still underdeveloped and vague. It's hard to put into words how or what he sensed, but it was sorta like seeing a shape on a radar and bein' able to hear its life signs."

"That little snitch was probably just in here tryin' to figure out what we did with Blitzwing," Ironhide grumbled, arms folded across his chest.

"Yeah, 'cept since he didn't know the lay of the ship, he was having trouble finding out," Windcharger agreed. "Not sure what he would have done if he'd found what he was looking for, though."

"Given how much Blitzwing seemed to love being with Tashk and his crew of freaks, that Kruxan probably would have gotten the rest of his misshapen skull mashed in for the effort," Brawn added. "Still, what now? They're probably still docked 'round here somewhere. I still don't see why we don't just take the fight to them."

Prowl shook his head. "We don't know what they're capable of on the whole, and regardless of the fact that Silth is a coward and hardly battle competent, both Zivven and Tashk are more than able to fight us. Ratchet and Blitzwing did manage to wound Tashk the last time he faced us, but we don't know what became of him, especially with Blitzwing's insistence that the wound inflicted would not be enough to kill him."

"So how about we just do what they did and send a spy their way?" Brawn suggested. "I'm pretty sure Jaraxis wouldn't have too much trouble sneaking on board their ship."

"And if Jaraxis is caught, his only defense will be to flee," the strategist countered. "No, I don't like it. If we are forced to go in after him, they'll be ready for us and we'd risk turning Bluepoint into a battle ground. We don't even know how they knew where we left the Wayfarer. It could be they have spies and contacts here, increasing their numbers and firepower."

"It's that, or somethin' else," Wheeljack said thoughtfully before turning to his old friend. "Ratchet, I know we gave Blitzwing a once over already with hand scanners to check vitals, but I'm worried we missed something. Might be worth our while to actually get him up on a table and dig through his internals."

The medic arched an optic ridge. "Think they planted a tracker of some kind on him when they had him last?"

Wheeljack nodded. "Possible. One would think our sensors woulda picked up on it by now and we did run a scan, but those bounty hunters are a slippery bunch. And better to be safe than sorry."

"Wheeljack, you and Ratchet get Blitzwing into the med bay and see to an examination," Prowl ordered. "The rest of us will get the Wayfarer out of port and away from Bluepoint. We can't afford to stay any longer and even minus an actual tracker, they'll have other ways of chasing after us. If they report that we have a captive with a bounty on his head, they won't be the only ones on the look out for us."

The medic and engineer nodded and left the command deck. As the others moved to their stations to withdraw the shuttle, Prowl took a seat and summoned some of their star maps to screen. Unfortunately, the next stop was a long way off, putting them in dead space for quite some time. Supplies would be stretched rather thin, but they had little choice but to make a jump while they had the chance.

-------

Silth twisted on the table's surface, belly down and strapped into place while a medical drone cleaned his wounds and saw to repairs. Nearby, Tashk stood by with his arms folded across his chest, Zivven sitting beside him like an armored, six limbed attack dog.

"How many?" the big Kruxan finally questioned, ears flattened back.

Silth winced and suppressed a whimper before responding, his claws scrabbling over the metal surface of the table. "Th-three."

"Hn." Tashk snorted. "Disappointing. But it should still be enough for the desired effect. Once the virus takes a hold of whichever three are unfortunate to contract it, they will be the undoing of the rest."

"H-Hope finhead and red and white die horriblely, painfully," the other managed to say, lips half twisting into a sick smile. "Want their p-parts when they are dead!"

Tashk smirked and turned to leave the room, Zivven following. "And you will be welcome to them. Just as Zivven will be welcome to Veras when we are through with her, as well!"

-------

_Next chapter: Now...the clock is ticking._


	7. Chapter 6: Berserk!

_Disclaimer: The Transformers and all related material belong to Hasbro, concept originally created and licensed through Takara Co. LTD. All original characters (c) C.R. Majors._

-------

**Running the Gauntlet**

_Chapter 6: "Berserk!"_

"Ya know, this'd be a lot easier if you could just TELL us whether or not you had somethin' nasty planted in your internals," Ratchet growled as he fished around in Blitzwing's chest, the wayward Decepticon laid out on an examination table in the shuttle's somewhat cramped med bay.

The triple changer snorted in turn, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of the Junker's hands as they carefully pushed aside bundles of wiring and forced open panel locks. "If telling you would get your mitts out of me, I'd be more than happy to... Trouble is, it's a little hard to know just what your captors have or haven't done when you spent half the time in their custody in stasis lock!"

Wheeljack chuckled nearby, running the overhead scanning equipment. "And folks used to say _you and I_ argued like an old married couple, Ratch."

"Ah, shut yer yap, already," the medic retorted with a scowl as he worked. "Not all reminders about home are welcome."

"You two never had anything on Megatron and Starscream," Blitzwing added, drawing odd looks from both medic and engineer. He glanced at them both, then huffed. "What? You think the rest of us didn't notice their constant arguing and power struggles? If they'd spent as much time fighting Autobots as they did each other, we would have finished all of you off long before the raid on Autobot City."

"Comforting thought, that," Ratchet replied. "Hey, 'Jack, you pickin' up anything? Or am I just playin' a cute game of 'Operation' for nothing?"

"Nothing, yet. If they put something in him, they buried it deep."

"Look, I go any deeper, and I'm gonna be down around the last bit of housing before I hit spark case."

Blitzwing muttered a few choice curses under his breath before speaking up again. "You fraggers would be better off deactivating me and chucking me out the door and into open space. I don't know why you're even bothering with all this nonsense."

"Because we still remember some of what it means to be Autobots," Wheeljack replied without looking up from his work. "Besides, wasn't it throwing your dying out into space that eventually led to them being reformatted by Unicron?"

The triple changer was quiet a moment. "Point taken."

Silence fell over the room for several cycles. Then Wheeljack looked up from his monitor. "Ratch, switch to the opposite side of the housing outside his laser core and go down along the outside of it. I think I found something. It was just a blip on the ol' radar, but it's worth checkin' out."

"Right. Hang on a 'klik." Moving around to the other side of the table, Ratchet dug down around the other side of the cylindrical bit of housing that made up part of the outer section of Blitzwing's spark casing. After a cycle or two of hunting around under a bundle of wiring, he paused, optics widening. "Well, paint me in scales and call me a Ch'danth. You found it. Granted, it's so small I could cover it with one finger tip an' probably crush it in the process, but that's gotta be it."

The engineer scooted over enough to have a look over his friend's shoulder. "Can ya get it out?"

"No problem, there. Just gonna take me a couple of 'kliks to remove it."

Blitzwing grunted as Ratchet extended a tiny set of forceps from his right wrist and attempted to work the device out. Several nanokliks later and with enough gentle pulling and turning to break the adhesive on the back, Ratchet extracted the tiny transmitter and held it up to the light.

"Nice bit of work," he commented before placing it carefully on a tray Wheeljack already had waiting. "Now we just need to figure on why our scanners weren't so keen on pickin' it up."

The engineer nodded. "Well, may as well leave that to me. Since we're resettin' shifts now that we're away from Bluepoint, it's your turn for down time. Prowl and Ironhide can run the command deck while I work out details on the tracker."

"In that case, I'll walk Happy Sunshine here back down to his quarters before callin' it quits," Ratchet said, turning his gaze on Blitzwing.

"Hmph, like you've got room to talk," was the patient's only response as his panels were reshut and locked.

"No backtalk," Ratchet reminded him with a smirk. "Your accommodations may be decent, but you're still technically our captive."

Blitzwing's frown deepened. "As if my status will change? I doubt any of you will find a decent reason to trust me fully. Not that I care or expect you to... Keeping me locked up is the only smart thing TO do."

As the medic glanced at Wheeljack, the engineer could only shrug. "I almost hate to say it, given how well behaved he's been, but it's not like he's wrong."

"Not like it's our decision, anyway." Ratchet placed a hand on the triple changer's arm and ushered him out the door. "But enough chit chat. I've got recharge to catch up on, so back into your room you go."

-------

A good shift's rest. Ratchet attempted to remember what that was like as he sat up on his recharge berth, optics half shuttered. Aside from having dreams about home that never turned out for the better, he was now having nightmares about Tarth, as well. Primus. Nearby Jaraxis uncurled from where he lay on the edge of the berth and stretched before skittering up the medic's torso to his left shoulder. Without waiting for his companion to ask what was bothering him, Ratchet slid off the berth and headed for the door. Like it or not, it was his turn on shift according to his internal chronometer.

As Ratchet left his quarters, he caught sight of Prowl entering the hallway, the strategist looking horribly exhausted. "You gonna make it to your room alright, Prowl?"

"Yes, I think so," came the reply as the tired mech leaned on the door leading to his own quarters a moment. "Can you possibly do me a favor, Ratchet? I meant to have Ironhide do a check on the cargo bay to make sure everything is still locked down, but never got the chance to. I think I've just gone a little too long without decent recharge. Windcharger and Brawn have already reported on the command deck, so they've got things under control, there."

"Yeah, I'll check it. Just make sure you go straight into recharge. None of your usual running reports and checks before."

"Right, right." Managing a weak smile, Prowl pushed himself away from the door and opened it. "See you at the start of next shift."

Nodding, Ratchet turned and headed down the hall to make his way down one level to the cargo bay. Not really what he wanted to do fresh out of the berth, but someone had to get the job done. Routine checks did, after all, prevent damage of cargo, tools and machinery. Sighing softly through his intakes, he spent several cycles walking the rows of crates, hands moving over the straps every so often to make sure they were tight. On his shoulder, Jaraxis sat in silence, picking at a few of his claws with his teeth.

_THUD._

Jaraxis froze, then turned his head, glancing up at the ceiling. At the same time, Ratchet arched an optic ridge and flicked his gaze upward. For several nanokliks, neither moved. Then, deciding one of the others had dropped something heavy somewhere, Ratchet continued along the row of barrels.

_THUD... THUD._

"Noise...not good," Jaraxis whispered, moving closer to his friend's helm.

"No," Ratchet agreed, optics narrowing as he glanced up again. "No, it's not. I'd better call the others."

Opening up a comm link to the command deck, he hailed Windcharger and Brawn. "Hey, it's Ratchet in the cargo hold. Everything alright up there?"

Windcharger answered a moment later. "Nothing going on up here. Why?"

"We're hearing noise down here, like something is pounding on the floor one level up."

"I haven't heard anything," the minibot responded. "But we're probably too far from the source. One of us will head down that way and check it ou--"

Ratchet's optics widened as static flooded the link. "Windcharger? Windcharger!"

"Something's wrong," Jaraxis whimpered, ears laying flat, his small body trembling. "Something's coming!"

Before the medic could answer, a nearby stack of crates creaked and swayed before toppling over completely, casting mech and Tarthan in its shadow. Diving out of the way, Ratchet slid along the floor with Jaraxis clinging to his shoulder as it all came crashing down. Coming to a stop up against one wall, Ratchet lifted his gaze in time to see Prowl stepping out from behind the mess. The tactician strode towards them both, optics burning, energon sword activating in one hand.

"Ratchet..."

"Prowl!" Ratchet gained his feet and backed up, mouth hanging open. "What the SLAG are you doing!"

The Junker leader twitched, limbs trembling as he drew closer, his voice wavering. "Run... Primus, get away from me!"

The tip of the sword rushed towards the white and red, forcing him to duck out of the way and jump towards the barrels. Behind him, Prowl's attack cut a gash in the wall, the smaller mech whirling around to attack a second time. Knowing such a weapon could ignite the stored chemicals, Ratchet scrambled away from the barrels, barely avoiding having his back slashed open, his scarf taking the brunt of the assault and filling the air with the smell of burning cloth. Jaraxis howling in one audio, Ratchet fled towards the hall door, Prowl hot on his heels.

"Prowl, STOP! I don't want to hurt you!"

"I...I can't!"

_Go right!_

Jaraxis' warning sent Ratchet to one side, his commander's blade missing him by mere inches. As a result, Ratchet all but fell through the hall door, part of a chevron tip coming off as Prowl swung at him again, the sword hacking into the doorframe as it narrowly missed its intended target. Lashing out with one foot, the medic caught his assailant in the midsection, sending Prowl backwards and onto his aft. Ratchet struggled to his feet and hurried up to the next level, hoping Windcharger and Brawn were alright. Any attempts to hail them with a distress signal were resulting in radio silence.

"RATCHET!"

Prowl's forlorn howl echoed up the hall, urging his target to move faster. Tearing around the corner and through another door, Ratchet found himself at the entrance to the makeshift holding cell. Intakes wheezing and thoughts jumbled, he stared at the door for a long moment before the sound of footfalls one hall over snapped him back to reality. Without a second thought, Ratchet opened the door and punched in the control box, sliding inside before the door could shut again.

"What the slag are you doing in here?" Blitzwing pushed himself up on one elbow from where he lay on his berth. "And what's got that retro rat of yours squealing like a frightened sparkling?"

Before Ratchet could reply, something slammed into the other side of the door. The second strike, which followed almost immediately after, put a dent in the reinforced metal. The corners of Ratchet's mouth twitched; Prowl's strength had increased, and he was probably damaging himself in the process of trying to break the door down.

"Tashk?" Blitzwing exclaimed as he got up, glaring at the door. "Did he--"

"Prowl," the other mech interrupted as he backed up against the far wall. "He attacked me in the cargo hold!"

"The others?"

"Don't know. No one's answering their communicators!"

The metal of the door groaned as the energon blade ripped through it.

"I could just throw you at him and get the slag out of here," Blitzwing growled as he watched the weapon carve up the only thing standing between them and a crazed mechanoid.

Ratchet narrowed his optics as he tried to cope with the idea that he might have to attack his fellow Junker...and possibly do him serious damage. "That's one option, but consider yourself out voted!"

"Then get behind me and shut your intake!"

"What?"

"It's my turn to stand in front of YOU!"

With a snarl, Prowl shredded the rest of the door from its frame and launched himself into the room...only to be met head on by Blitzwing, who turned to one side at the last second and let the other's weapon take him through what was left of one wing. Dental plates gritted in pain, the triple changer whipped to one side and backhanded the smaller mech, sending him up against the wall by the door, the sword clattering to the floor. A split second later, Blitzwing was on Prowl, locking hands with him and pressing him into the wall, but the Junker wasn't giving up without a fight, his own grip tightening, causing the metal in the triple changer's hands to collapse and tear.

"Not...possible!" Blitzwing grunted as Prowl began to force him backwards. "How...!"

But Ratchet had already lowered the set of lenses in his helm, on board scanners working furiously to determine the cause of his friend's madness. "His systems, they've gone into overdrive! He's burning fuel at almost twice the normal rate!"

"Science later, action NOW!" Blitzwing snarled over one shoulder as he was forced to his knees. "Do something about this freak before I tear his arms off and be done with it!"

Extending a sparking tool from one wrist, the medic rushed to Prowl's side, hands seeking a panel in the side of the mech's torso. "Don't let go of him! You have to hold him until I can disable him!"

Prowl, in the meantime, was glancing from the former Decepticon to his Junker comrade, as if he wasn't sure who to dispose of first. But at the moment, he had little choice but to make Blitzwing priority number one as the triple changer tightened his grip, refusing to let his opponent turn.

"Easier said than done, so hurry the frag up!" Blitzwing shot back through gritted dental plates.

"Slag off, I'm workin' on it!"

The tool on Ratchet's wrist snaked in through the small opening and began to seek the nearest set of motor relay connections. Prowl jerked in response, trying to knock one door wing into the side of the medic's head, but Ratchet managed to duck in time, free arm wrapping around the berserk Junker's torso while Jaraxis chattered in fear and dove into the folds of his keeper's scarf. The three grappled with one another for several seconds, the two larger forced to work as a team to hold the smaller in place. But one shock later, Prowl gasped, expression going slack as he shuddered and collapsed against Blitzwing, who nearly fell backwards on to the floor.

"I can't wait to hear the explanation for this bit of idiocy," Blitzwing grunted as he shoved Prowl to one side, the prone mech still twitching violently. "Now what do we do with him?"

Stepping out of the room, Ratchet got to a nearby supply box where they had been keeping the restraints for their guest. "Restrain him, then go find the others. It's all that CAN be done."

"Personally, I'd like to just rip his spark case out and leave it at that, but that kinda permanent solution won't go over with you, will it, doc?"

Ratchet shot the other mech a glare before bending down to bind Prowl's wrists and lower legs with energy chains. "If you and I are the only ones left at this point, I don't fancy the idea of trying to make it back to Earth or Cybertron with just the two of us, three if you count Jaraxis. We've got to find out what the slag caused Prowl to go berserk and fix it before he sustains any more injuries. Jaraxis?"

Peering out from beneath Ratchet's scarf, the Tarthan blinked at his friend. "Ratchet?"

"You've got to stay here and keep an eye on Prowl. If he gets loose or if more trouble comes along, let me know and then hide yourself. Understand?"

Jaraxis suppressed a shudder and jumped down to the floor alongside Prowl. "Yes, but...don't leave too long."

Ratchet nodded. _I won't. Don't worry... I'll take care of this._ Straightening up, he met Blitzwing's hard gaze. "I might be a complete fool for trusting you, but I want you to follow me to the command deck. If any of the others are like Prowl, I won't have the strength necessary to bring them down safely."

"Hrmph, my life has been in your hands from the start, so what the slag? Lead on, already. I'm not all that hot on the idea of one of your friends gutting me from behind," came the growl of a reply.

"Just don't gut ME from behind."

"If I gut you, you'll see it coming. The expression on a victim's face is half the fun."

"Charming."

Exiting the room, Ratchet led Blitzwing back down the hall and up towards the command deck. The others still weren't answering his calls. The medic shuddered to think of the cause...

-------

If Windcharger had been human, he would have been drenched in his own sweat, stomach churning and nerves tied in knots. Dental plates gritted, gauntlet covered hands trembling, he stood with his arms held before him, his magnetic field the only thing keeping the mech in front of him from ripping his internals out. Pinned to the wall, Wheeljack struggled against the field, his shoulder mounted weapon twitching and shuddering as it tried to turn enough to draw a bead on the minibot.

"Brawn...I can't keep this up! If I increase the field anymore, I might crush him!"

"I'd love to help ya, buddy, but in case you hadn't noticed, I'm a little busy with my own problems right now!"

Back to the floor, Brawn glared up into the blazing optics of Ironhide as the larger mech pushed against him, one knee braced against the smaller mech's chest. The older warrior was practically foaming at the mouth, his already incredible strength doubled. Brawn grunted, his hands braced against Ironhide's forearms, which bore his active energon blades, the tips ripping at the flooring to either side.

Windcharger stole a glance at the other two, but a savage cry from Wheeljack brought his attention back to his own problems. "I just hope Ratchet and Prowl are alright! Field's draining me too quick, can't spare the power for a comm call!"

"And here I was gonna ask if you thought you could hold both Ironhide and Wheeljack!" Brawn called back. "I don't wanna hurt the old lug, but he's REALLY askin' for it right now!"

"Windcharger..."

The minibot's jaw dropped as the engineer strained against the field and actually managed to take one step forward. Instinctively, Windcharger increased his own efforts, throwing Wheeljack back into the wall, the white and green Junker's chest plate groaning and collapsing under the pressure. Meanwhile, Brawn decided he'd had enough.

"Sorry about this, old buddy!" the green and yellow minbot grunted as he began to squeeze at the locks holding Ironhide's weapons to his forearms.

Ironhide bellowed in response as his weapons began to short under the assault, the malfunction registering in his neural relays. Taking advantage of the momentary lapse in the other's defense's, Brawn brought one leg up under his fellow Junker and pushed, hurling Ironhide backwards and into a console, which shorted and half collapsed under the impact. The red mech moaned in pain, his body trembling violently.

Brawn was not reassured as he got up. "Slag, I don't think he's gonna stay down for long!"

"They can't take much more of this... WE can't take much more of this!" Windcharger reminded his companion. "If we can't disable them somehow..."

On the other side of the room, the door leading into the main hall slid open. A split second later, Blitzwing charged in, making a b-line for Ironhide and throwing himself at the downed 'bot. The pair crushed what remained of the remote console stand and rolled across the floor, practically spitting at each other in anger. Ratchet appeared in the doorway a moment later, optics widening as he took in the situation.

"About damn time," Brawn exclaimed as he looked to the surgeon. "Where's Prowl?"

"Disabled and tied up," came Ratchet's terse reply as he started towards the entangled mechs. "Just help us get Ironhide under control! Windcharger, try to hold Wheeljack a few more 'kliks!"

"Easier said than done!" Windcharger winced as one of the engineer's headfins shattered, prompting a scream from the trapped Junker.

Blitzwing grunted and then swore viciously as Ironhide's right fist connected with the side of his face, sending him to the floor in a heap. Spitting out several loosened dental plates, the triple changer regarded the seasoned soldier with a sneer. "You'll pay for that one, old timer!"

"Worry about your grudges later!" Leaping into the fray, Brawn tackled the red mech to the floor, arms wrapping about Ironhide's legs. "Hurry up, doc!"

Jumping on top of Ironhide from one side, Ratchet seized his friend's arms and attempted to pin him, but found his strength lacking. "Blitzwing!"

"If I gotta save your aft one more time after this..."

Blitzwing forced himself up and joined the tangled mess, pushing Ironhide's arms flat against the floor. Ignoring the enraged curses being thrown in his face, Ratchet pried open Ironhide's chest plate and extended the same tool he'd used on Prowl, the device slithering down the right side of internal housing, seeking a point of attack. Beneath the medic, Ironhide writhed and bucked, not willing to go quietly, but a moment later, he fell limp, one of his motor relay connections shorted.

"Ratchet..." Windcharger hissed weakly from nearby, his arms shuddering under the strain.

Brawn and Blitzwing regained their feet and in a moment of silent agreement, ran for the other pair. As Windcharger's field failed, the minibot falling to his knees, Wheeljack rushed forward, shoulder mounted weapon finally swiveling into place. As it locked and began to charge, however, the engineer was hit from one side and dog piled by Blitzwing and Brawn. Together they managed to flip him over and push him against the floor, the triple changer literally ripping Wheeljack's weapon off in a move of pure desperation. Ratchet joined them a 'klik later, hands seeking a back panel mere seconds before disabling the berserk mech.

As Wheeljack ceased to move of his own accord, a nauseating silence blanketed the command deck for several seconds. Glancing at one another, the remaining four seemed to assess one another, each one wondering if every other mech in the room would go suddenly insane or not. Finally, Ratchet spoke as he got shakily to his feet.

"Brawn, Blitzwing... Help me get Wheeljack, Ironhide and Prowl to the medbay. Windcharger, I need you to stay here and monitor the Wayfarer's autopilot functions. If whatever effected Prowl affected Ironhide and Wheeljack, we need to get them all on life support systems."

Windcharger shivered involuntarily. "You know what's wrong with them, Ratch?"

The medic shook his head. "I don't. But I do know Prowl's systems are doing overtime. If that's still the case even while he's in lock and he's not given an outside source of energy, he'll burn up all his fuel and start feeding on his own spark energies. We have to work this out and work it out, fast. Time may be short."

Blitzwing snorted as he hauled Ironhide up over one shoulder and started for the door. "So much for second chances."

Brawn and Ratchet glanced at one another before the minibot managed to pull Wheeljack into his arms, the two Junkers following the triple changer out into the hallway.

-------

_Next chapter: Ratchet's diagnosis..._


	8. Chapter 7: Behind Enemy Lines

_Disclaimer: The Transformers and all related material belong to Hasbro, concept originally created and licensed through Takara Co. LTD. All original characters (c) C.R. Majors._

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Author Note: Many thanks to Dragoness Eclectic for helping me break clear of writer's block on this chapter. I got a little too caught up with character locations in conjuction with the plot development I'd already put down in my basic story outline! Hopefully this chapter turned out alright, as I had a heck of a time getting it finished. Enjoy!

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**Running the Gauntlet**

_Chapter 7: "Behind Enemy Lines"_

Ratchet sat down heavily in the chair alongside the work table, optic shutters closing as he reached up to rub the bridge of his nose. Technically, he would be off shift in less than one Earth hour. But unfortunately, dire circumstances made that an impossibility, now.

"Any progress, doc?"

The medic straightened up as a nearby screen flickered to life, Brawn on the other side of the connection. Behind him, Windcharger sat at one of the navigation terminals, chair turned so he could watch and listen in on the conversation. The two had been monitoring the shuttle's flight path for the last couple of hours.

"Yes, and no," came the weary response. "I've also had a chance to look over Wheeljack's notes on the tracker we found in Blitzwing, or what notes he managed to make, anyway."

Nearby, their triple changer guest leaned on a vacant exam table, gazed fixed on Prowl, Ironhide and Wheeljack where they lay double-strapped to their new make-shift berths. Each one was on life support, their bodies trembling despite being in stasis lock. Hardly anyone had thought to put Blitzwing back in confinement after the attacks; his strength would be needed if the berserk Junkers got loose. Brawn had protested the idea, but even he knew they had little choice. Besides, they were still a decent distance from the next port and the current mess was something that involved them all. The past would have to be put aside for a common goal.

"So what's the deal?" Brawn inquired, impatience evident in his tone.

Ratchet shuttered his optics once in a slow blink. "Do you want the so-so news, the bad news, or the really bad news, first?"

The minibot snorted. "What kind of a choice is that?"

"Well, the 'so-so news' is that Wheeljack did figure out how the tracker works," Ratchet explained. "The reason we didn't catch it is because the signal it gives off is intermittent; it's programmed to go into a stasis lock type state when not transmitting, which is why we didn't find it on the first pass. It was located so close to Blitzwing's laser core that we couldn't detect it while it was down. Granted, a tracker like that isn't as accurate as one running all the time, but one like this uses less energy an' besides...it's not like Tashk would be in any hurry to catch us, now."

"I fail to see how this isn't just bad news."

"Wheeljack didn't deactivate it while studying it. He couldn't, not if he was going to figure out how it worked. I haven't deactivated it myself, either."

"Well, why the slag not? You WANT those valveholes to find us?" Brawn growled, incredulous.

"That's where the bad news actually does come in, unfortunately." Turning his chair, the medical officer cast his gaze to the three occupied berths. "Tashk may be the only one who can do somethin' about this, as I suspect it was that lackey of his who infected Prowl, Wheeljack and Ironhide in the first place. We did sweep the hall Jaraxis found him in, but we probably didn't check the rooms thoroughly enough. We spent too much time looking for things that could have been stolen or outwardly dangerous traps like explosives."

"So, if it's a virus, how did they get it? And why didn't WE get it?" Windcharger had actively joined the conversation now, peering over Brawn's shoulder.

"We'll have to examine the equipment to be sure, but the problem started when we went on shift and they went off. ...I think somethin' may have been done to the berths. They may be the viral contact point. It's the only thing I can think of that all three of them have in common at that period in time."

"It's at this point I don't think I wanna hear the very bad news," Windcharger sighed.

Brawn frowned, glancing to his companion before looking to the screen again. "Lay it on us, doc. Just how bad is it?"

"As near as I can figure it, the virus has settled itself in their primary programming, affecting their personalities and motor reflexes. Aside from turning them into berserkers, it's also overclocked their systems so that they're chewing through energy at about twice the normal rate."

"So...we can just keep them on life support until we find a cure," Windcharger suggested. "It'll be difficult to man the shuttle with just the three of us, but it CAN be done."

"It's not that simple," Ratchet continued. "The side effect of their systems doing overtime is that they'll eventually wear out...and burn out. If we don't find a cure sooner rather than later, their insides will break down, overheat and burn into ash. And before you ask, I checked the nature of the virus to see if it could be removed with some tricky program navigation, but it's attached itself to too much primary programming. Removing it could possibly wipe Prowl, Wheeljack and Ironhide's systems completely and shut down their cores. They'd end up as nothing more than empty husks."

Brawn's fist slammed into the console in front of him. "This is all the fault of that scrap pile behind you! If we'd just turned him over when we were done with him, this wouldn't have happened! I say we toss him out while we've got the chance. Let's trade him to Tashk for the cure!"

"You don't get it, do you?" Speaking for the first time since the transmission came through from the command deck, Blitzwing stepped forward to stand behind the surgeon. "It's too late for that. Even if you do turn me over, what are the chances that Tashk will keep any bargains you intend to make with him? Why should he? He's got you all where he wants you and knowing him and his crew, they wouldn't mind taking ALL of us to turn over to Galvatron. You're on your own, helping your screwed up friends."

"You shut up!" Brawn fired back with narrowed optics. "You aren't one of us! The only thing you've done since we brought you on board is cause trouble!"

"Brawn... Stow it. We don't have time to argue like this." Glancing back at Blitzwing, Ratchet arched an optic ridge. "You seem to know a fair amount about these crankcases who keep chasing all of us around. That little runt of Tashk's doesn't seem intelligent enough to come up with this kind of plan and programming. There a possibility that we can somehow contact whatever member of the crew that IS responsible for this and bargain with them, directly?"

The triple changer shrugged. "Silth is good for sneaking about and doing basic work, but you're right. Programming on this level isn't his thing. It's not Tashk's or Zivven's business, either. Most of their crew is made up of obedient drones, so the only one who would know how to create a virus or a tracker like the one they snuck into me would be Veras."

Windcharger leaned in closer to the screen. "Veras? Who?"

"They kidnapped her from a salvage space craft a while ago and have been forcing her to do the more high-end dirty work. From what she told me while we were sharing cell walls, Tashk's crew killed the rest of her people on board. She knows a fair amount about Cybertronians, though she never explained herself. She's probably the one who created the virus and the tracker."

"So they're forcing her..." Ratchet rubbed his chin in thought. "They'll probably kill 'er if she doesn't do as she's told. Gotta be some way to work with this. I really don't want to play anymore games with Tashk, himself."

"You don't seem to realize the games are pretty much over at this point. The next time we check into port, he'll follow and get us cornered. That'll be the end of it," Blitzwing sneered. "We're outnumbered and outgunned."

But the medic shook his head, bringing up information on the tracker again. "If I'd considered everything to be 'game over' back on Tarth, we wouldn't have made it this far. And you'd either be a slave to some sleazy mine or factory owner, or in pieces. As Autobots, we knew that where this was a will, there's a way. And as Junkers, the same is doubly true. Survival of the group is paramount, and now we're even willing to play a bit on the dirty side to make that a reality."

"So you sound like you've got a plan, doc," Brawn cut in, again. "Care to let the rest of us in on it?"

"We have a means to contact Tashk an' I intend to use it. I really wish Prowl was in a state of mind to do the negotiations because that's not really my department, but if we can talk the old hairball into meeting on our terms, we might manage a small advantage. And that advantage would be getting at least two of the independently intelligent ones away from their ship long enough for a few of us to break into it and either steal the cure if it already exists, or kidnap Veras. From the sounds of things, she could use a helping hand, anyway."

"Why do I get the feeling I'm the prime candidate for that job?" Windcharger sighed. "You're wishing Prowl was online for this and I'm wishing Jazz and Bumblebee were here to give ME a hand."

"You're as good as 'Bee and don't ever let anyone tell you different," Brawn grunted. "We'll just have to make sure you go in at the right time and with the right stuff."

Ratchet frowned as he looked up at the pair. "It's more complicated than that because we have to take away the thing Tashk wants most, here. If he gets it in his head to send someone to break in here while I'm handling negotiations, we've lost our upper hand. And don't think he won't. That little mutt of his already got in, once."

"Eh?" Windcharger rubbed the back of his head with one hand in confusion. "You want Blitzwing off the shuttle? Where are we gonna put him?"

"Really nice you guys are letting ME have a say in all this," the triple changer growled.

"You'll have more of a say in things when this is over, IF it works," Ratchet promised. "As for where we'll put you, it'll be some place Tashk won't expect. Now let's wrap up this little chat session and get to work. Windcharger, where's our next stop?"

"A checkpoint called...well, in our language, it translates roughly to 'Spire Alpha.' It's security based and all shuttles and crafts have to stop in there before passing the closest planet, which has outer-lying ports all around it, all called 'Spire'-something, depending on location and number. The files say they've been having problems with illegal trade and drug trafficking. The civil wars raging across half the planet probably aren't helping, either."

Ratchet managed a crooked smirk. "Perfect."

-------

If there was one word that perfectly described the ports around the planet Alzen, it was "efficient." The world they guarded was mired in a civil war, the surface literally pock-marked with explosion craters. The cities were run down, the scenery like something out of a post-apocalyptic Earth movie. Surrounding Alzen in a ring-like fashion, the security checkpoints monitored all incoming and outgoing craft. Occasionally, a fight would erupt between the ruling government and the rebels against it, small, light fighter craft spinning through space and engaging in short, but vicious dog fights. But most of the battles were confined to the planet's ravaged surface; the two warring factions were starting to run out of materials and funds to build grand space shuttles and take their skirmishes off-planet. And that was why the government owned stations were there, to make sure that incoming supplies were not sabotaged and to ensure that the rebels did not get their hands on them. That included drug trafficking as such activities could be a source of income for the enemy.

As Ratchet stepped out of one of the Wayfarer's side doors and walked down the docking hall, he found himself grateful that the Junkers had no need to actually visit Alzen. They'd just been through a civil war on a foreign world and were probably headed right back into their home planet's own battles. The space port stretched out before him as he exited the hall, crowned in the center by a huge metal spire that stretched up through the overhead dome that housed the interior. More than likely, the fancy set-up was part of the scanner and communications array. All around him, other alien species were stopping in to drop off cargo and refuel. And really, that seemed to be the only two activities allowed. You handed over the goods, collected payment, gassed up and left. No one was allowed to visit the planet, itself. Security was tight, armed Alzenians on guard everywhere.

"You gonna stand there, or are you gonna take care of business and get out?" a nearby guard questioned in his native language, his hard gaze fixed on the medic.

Ratchet frowned back at the very humanesque creature. He did understand the question; he'd been careful to obtain the language codec before arrival and download it to his own systems. The Alzenians were a bit larger than Earth people, but had the same number of limbs, ears and eyes. In fact, minus their somewhat scaly skin and sharp teeth, they would look exactly like overgrown Earthlings. That did not make them any less dangerous than a mech or Kruxan, however. They were highly advanced and war hardened after generations of fighting.

"My shuttle travels with another. As soon as I know it's arrived, both will refuel and leave. We have no cargo for you, but our credits should hold value enough," he finally responded.

"You'll start refueling now," came the harsh response. "I'll call someone to do it for you. No waiting."

Ratchet grumbled inwardly, but wasn't ready to give up. "Then can you tell me if the Everdark is here?"

The guard merely grunted and walked away, tapping his communications headset to call someone for the refuel. Ratchet shook his head and turned away as well, opening a secure communications link to Windcharger.

"The guards here are no help," he reported. "Any news on your end?"

"According to our uplink with the space port's systems, the Everdark arrived just a few nanokliks ago," Windcharger responded. "Slowing up like we did let them catch up, as planned. The ship's located two docking ports down to the right. When should we start the operation?"

"Wait for my signal, then go," Ratchet answered. "And have you seen Jaraxis? I haven't seen him since I started trying to assess the virus. He's not answering my mental calls, either."

"Haven't seen him in a while, either. But he'll turn up, he always does. He probably wedged himself behind some equipment for a nap or something. Lucky fellah can afford to grab some rest while the rest of us can't."

"Hn." The white and red mech shuttered his optics a moment. It was bad enough that he and he alone would have to serve as a diversion, but to do so without his companion made him even more anxious. Not knowing Jaraxis' location made Ratchet worry for the Tarthan's safety, as well as his own. Without a second set of eyes and ears to watch his own back, he felt vulnerable. "We'll proceed as planned."

Several cycles passed and an Alzen refueling clerk began working on the Wayfarer, operating the external equipment from a console on the wall mounted catwalks above the docking doors. It was shortly thereafter that Ratchet caught sight of his contacts, the pair of them coming towards the Junker from the right side as Windcharger had warned.

"You have a lot of nerve coming out alone to face me," Tashk hissed as he stopped short of the medic, his tail swishing slowly. "This, in addition to your unexpected call and your demands that Silth and I meet with you."

"Give us a little more credit, Tashk," Ratchet replied, forcing his voice to remain steady in the face of bad odds. "Did you think we'd miss finding the tracker forever? And not manage to decode its frequency when we did find it? I'd think you'd be happy that we're willing to talk. It's just the polite thing to do, meeting face to face so we both know there aren't tricks involved."

"Watch your mouth, scraplet," Silth warned, pointing one clawed finger at the medic. "You can't talk to Tashk like that!"

The Junker forced a smirk...and sent a comm. link signal to Windcharger. "I'm just askin' for a little credit. I'll give you two credit for pulling the wool over our eyes, as is said in another culture. But we're not done, yet. Let's get down to business. What do you want, Tashk?"

-------

"This is a bad idea," Brawn muttered over the comm link as he opened a small hatch on the Wayfarer's belly. "I mean, really bad. I'm lovin' the chance to pound the slag out of Tashk's goons, but that doesn't mean I'll enjoy the overwhelming odds."

"Quit complaining and move." Blitzwing shoved Brawn out through the hole and slipped out, himself, floating in the zero gravity below the shuttle. "I think it's just as idiotic as you do, but aside from making a final, lost cause stand, we don't have a better plan."

"Let's get one thing straight, Decepticon," the green and amber-orange minibot shot back. "Don't touch me. Ever. You touch me again and I'll take what's left of your tank turret and shove it down your intake!"

Windcharger followed, shutting the hatch door behind him. "Alright, enough fighting, you two. We've got work to do and not a whole lot of time to do it in. Let's move."

The three mechs fired the thrusters on their back mounted jetpacks and flew out from under the shuttle, careful to avoid the refueling equipment and stay out of view of its handler on the other side. Thank Primus Cybertronians did not require oxygen or any other gas to remain functional; their cooling systems had back-up measures with heat sinks and coolant fluid that did not require cycling air to maintain acceptable operating temperatures. One of the kinks in the plan, however, was that Veras was not designed like a Cybertronian, meaning they would have to hope for an available space suit to steal for her. And that was just one of the problems they faced.

Windcharger led the way, going over the plan in his head for the hundredth time since Ratchet had come up with it. The concept was simple enough; Ratchet would distract Tashk while the minibots and triple changer broke into the Everdark from outside the docking ports, steal Veras and get back in time to make an escape. Blitzwing had claimed earlier that he remembered enough about the ship to navigate the interior, and that was part of the reason they were sending him into the jaws of the enemy. In addition, Ratchet was correct in assuming that the Everdark would be the absolute LAST place Tashk would think to look for the wayward Decepticon.

But executing the plan without being executed themselves was something else, entirely.

Ratchet had been the first to admit the plan was so riddled with holes that Ironhide could drive through it, but none of them could come up with anything better. So...it was the one that went forward. And just about all of them prayed to Primus it would be successful.

Reaching the belly of the Everdark first, Windcharger felt along the smooth metal until his fingers located a set of indents their triple changer partner in crime had mentioned was usually an indication of a hatch. The minibot found holds with both hands and pulled, but without results.

"Locked from the inside, of course," he grumbled over the link before glancing to his two comrades. Reaching into his subspace pocket, Windcharger got out a length of insulated wiring and plugged it into the tiny emergency control panel to the side of the hatch. "I just hope this won't trigger a breach alarm because if it does, this'll be over before we can really get started."

"Not to mention a vacuum if there's no airlock on the inside," Brawn responded. "We'll be blown away from the opening."

Blitzwing shook his head. "Almost all the doors and hatches on this piece of scrap have interior safety airlocks, somewhere. This looks like a maintenance hatch, so there's probably another hatch on the inside."

Finally, after some code cracking and coaxing from Windcharger, the hatch creaked and hissed, the door swinging open. The three hung motionless in zero gravity for a few tense moments, waiting to see if anything would come out after them. When nothing did, Windcharger entered first, pulling himself up a service ladder to the next hatch up. Brawn followed in his wake, Blitzwing barely managing to bring up the rear. The space was compact, all three mechs hunched in together as the last one in pulled the hatch shut. Windcharger plugged into the second hatch and the cramped space was repressurized, the hatch opening after. Peering over the edge, the red minibot eyed the few of the four armed, two legged, mono-opticked drones milling about a large, orderly stack of crates.

"Three drones, far end by some crates," he warned. "One for each of us."

Brawn followed the other minibot in, coming up as Windcharger left the ladder and eased off to one side. "Great. Let's get this party started."

-------

"What kind of stupid question is that?" Silth demanded. "You know what we're here for!"

"Silth!" The smaller Kruxan shrank back beneath the gaze of his superior, Tashk staring him down before fixing his cold gaze on the Cybertronian before him. "We want the Decepticon. And really, there isn't anything to prevent us from taking him, now is there? Or would you come between me and my prey? You wouldn't be out here trying to negotiate with me unless at least one of your comrades fell victim to my virus. You NEED a cure. I need the Decepticon. What is so difficult to understand about that?"

Ratchet's hands balled into fists. He wasn't backing down, not yet. "I fought you once before an' I can do it again. Besides, I'm not about to tell you how many of my crew were infected. For all you know, only one caught the virus and the others are all still aboard the Wayfarer, awaiting orders. We're not pushovers, Tashk. We've fought wars, before."

"If so few were infected, why are you here alone? You're outnumbered, robot," came the haughty reply, Tashk sneering down.

"Someone's gotta watch the medical bay," Ratchet responded in as off-hand a manner as he could manage. "Not to mention supervise the refueling from the command deck. Plus the Decepticon you want so slaggin' badly is still OUR property. Do you really think I'd let him wander around, unchecked?"

-------

Blitzwing grinned as he twisted the cranial unit off one drone in the Everdark's cargo bay. It had been too long since he'd had enough control over himself to break something, not to mention the strength and energy. Nearby, another drone was crushed into a sphere via Windcharger's magnetic field, and the third expired when Brawn's fist smashed its head down between its shoulders.

"You think any of them had time to trigger a silent alarm?" Windcharger asked as he pulled a few pieces off his drone, Junker conversation still limited to silent comm links.

"Who knows?" Brawn kicked the remains of the drone away and headed for the nearest door. "I'm not hanging around in here long enough to find out. Let's just rescue the princess and get out of here."

As they exited, Windcharger hefted a small bit of drone in his right hand and threw it at a security camera down the way, guiding it with his magnetic field until it struck. He'd dealt with the nearest cargo bay security camera in a similar fashion and, hopefully, it hadn't been before someone noticed the commotion. The stricken camera fell dead and the mechs continued on their way, Blitzwing taking the lead.

"She's probably still in the brig. If we can get there and get her out, most of our problems will be behind us."

"Obviously," Brawn huffed. "If they catch us on the way out, it'll be easier to just break everything that gets in our way and blast our way out the side of the ship. It's like every bad Earth action movie ever made."

Windcharger grinned. "You never did care for Jerry Bruckheimer flicks."

"So sue me. I liked Michael Bay, better."

"How much farther?" Windcharger questioned as they moved up a level and headed down a hall. "We've broken enough equipment, I'm shocked we haven't been swarmed, yet."

"Through here." Blitzwing approached a large door. "Security sector. There are probably at least a dozen drones on the other side, if not more."

Brawn stepped up past the triple changer and hit the side control panel. "Then let's open it, already. The doc's probably running out excuses!"

-------

"Point taken." Tashk laid his ears back, then lashed out, seizing Ratchet by the throat. "So where's your leader, rust bucket? You're not strong enough to lead ANY crew!"

One hand gripping the Kruxan's forearm, the medic growled back up in defiance. "None'a yer business! I'm an officer, so you'll just have to deal with me instead of Prowl!"

Leaning in, Tashk squeezed harder. Ratchet's feet nearly came clear of the floor. "Oh, trust me, I WILL deal with you as I see fit! This is no negotiation session, so you WILL deliver your prisoner to me or not only will I withhold the cure from you, but I will crush your intake tubes on the spot. Then I will destroy your craft and everyone on board. Is that understood? It matters not to me how the job gets done, but simply that it does!"

"I see...how it is now," Ratchet managed to choke out, taking a gamble. "You're just another pawn in a bigger game, huh? We...interrogated the Decepticon. He told us what you're up to... You're just following someone else's orders! The orders of some other robot…just like us!"

"If you are trying to impress me, you're failing miserably! If anything, you're only going to earn more of my wrath!" The bounty hunter pulled his captive up off the floor. "Last chance, robot! Give me what I want, or this backwater space port will be the last sight your optics ever see!"

"Halt!"

Tashk shifted his gaze to a handful of Alzenians who had come running at the first sign of real trouble, their rifles trained on him. Growling softly, Silth slipped behind his leader, lowering himself to all fours.

"Officers..." Tashk grinned, expression sickeningly sweet as he set Ratchet back on his feet, but did not withdraw his hand. "This is a private matter."

"Fighting between non-Alzenians is forbidden at all check points!" the lead guard barked. "Release the android, now!"

The smile on Tashk's face vanished completely, replaced with a snarl as he let go of Ratchet, the Junker wheezing as he put one hand to his dented throat.

-------

Blitzwing's assumption had been correct; fifteen drones greeted the three as they entered the security sector, which was a large room sub-sectioned by half-wall dividers. Unfortunately, a fair number of the drones had also been armed, leaving all three mechs with more scorched and dented armor then they wanted to take home to their stressed medical officer.

"Well, if they didn't know we were here before, they sure do now," Brawn said out loud as he dropped half a drone carcass, watching as all the lights on the nearby consoles flashed red, an alarm blaring over the PA speakers in the background behind the sizzling of dying drone power cores.

"Veras!" Windcharger called, casting around on the scrap metal covered floor. "Where is she? I don't see any holding cells!"

"Far end," Blitzwing replied before turning and striding off further into the security sector. "We'll have to break the cell control unit."

As they turned the corner, they found themselves in a narrow hallway with several cells on one side. Only one was occupied, neon blue energy bars guarding what looked like some sort of purplish, scaly and tawny furred alien creature at the back. It glanced up as the three approached, owlish eyes widening.

"Blitzwing!"

The accent was unfamiliar to the minibots, but the former Decepticon didn't miss a beat. Walking up to the control panel on the side of the cell, he ran his right fist through it, causing the bars to short out and vanish with a loud pop. "C'mon. We're gettin' outta here."

"Blitzwing, who are these beings? How did you get in here?" Oddly enough, she was speaking in Cybertronian.

Brawn peered around the triple changer as the purple scaled alien got to her feet and approached. "Hey, can we cut introductions short and get the slag out of here? I don't think we've got enough credits in our account to pay for all the stuff we just trashed."

No sooner had Veras set foot out of her cell however, then the group realized they were being watched. A shadow separated itself from the darkness of the wire and pipe filled rafters overhead, landing with a hiss in a low crouch between the group and the door leading back into the main security area. Four eyes glared at them, the sound of eager talons against the metal flooring echoing down the hall.

Blitzwing's optic band glowed in angry response. "...Zivven."

-------

_Next chapter: Further divided._


	9. Chapter 8: Lost, Found and Frustrated

_Disclaimer: The Transformers and all related material belong to Hasbro, concept originally created and licensed through Takara Co. LTD. All original characters (c) C.R. Majors._

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Author Note: I think this might be one of the longest chapters, yet, so hopefully that helps make up for how long it took me to update. I really do appreciate everyone's patience and at this point, we're more than halfway through, so I honestly hope I can pound the rest of this out and get it done before too much longer.

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**Running the Gauntlet**

_Chapter 8: "Lost, Found and Frustrated"_

"You _will_ return to your own craft, immediately." The lead Alzenian guard edged forward, never taking his eyes or his rifle aim from the two Kruxans. "Comply or be fired upon."

"Do you think I am afraid of you?" Tashk snarled back, bristling visibly. "I could kill three of you with one swipe of my claws!"

"Not before we ventilated your worthless carcass. And there are plenty more of us around this checkpoint to take care of you if you commit the crime of murder and failure to obey local law."

For nearly a full Earth minute, no one except Ratchet moved, the Junker still struggling a bit after having part of his throat crushed. Just as the Alzenian in charge opened his mouth to speak again, however, Tashk's mane bristled, lips pulling back into an enraged snarl. Turning on Ratchet, he slammed one huge fist into the medic's midsection, the force of the blow throwing the hapless victim of Kruxan wrath backwards and onto the floor.

"The others robots are on board the Everdark!" Tashk snarled at Silth. "Return to the shuttle, NOW!"

As the pair turned and fled, the guards finally opened fire, shooting after them as they ran back down the docks. Ratchet curled up on the floor in a fetal position for a brief moment, insides rattled by the sheer force of Tashk's punch, his audios ringing with weapon fire and the shouts of other merchants and travelers as they tried to get clear of the chase. None of the Alzenians had remained behind to see if he was functional, which while quite rude was perfectly fine. It meant he had a chance to flee back to his own ship without answering any questions.

"Windcharger," Ratchet called over his communications link as he forced himself to his feet. "What's going on!? Tashk and Silth know you're in the Everdark! They're on their way back!"

The minibot's reply was backed by the sounds of laser fire as he responded. "We ran into some drones in the brig and now Zivven is in here! Get the Wayfarer ready to pull out!"

Running as hard as he was able, Ratchet re-entered the docking bay, hoping the refuel was nearly complete. "You don't have a lot of time, so hurry! I don't know how long the Alzenians can keep Tashk busy inside the docks!"

"To be honest, Ratch," Windcharger replied, "I'm not sure another two guys jumping into this thing are going to matter!"

-------

Brawn grunted as he flew backwards, hitting a wall and slumping to the floor with one shoulder crackling and malfunctioning. Hissing maliciously, Zivven eyed his target, tail lashing as he watched his prey struggle to rise after being struck down. Nearby, Blitzwing swung what was left of a table into two drones, swatting them across the room like a pair of rag dolls. The shooting had nearly ceased, the drones deciding that they were better off attacking directly instead of risking one another and Zivven to friendly fire. As more drones rushed to engage the fallen Brawn, wielding everything from blow torches to beam sabers, Zivven made the decision to turn back to Blitzwing.

"Guys, we don't have time for this!" Windcharger called from the brig entrance, Veras behind him as he defended her from several attacking drones. "Tashk is on his way back!"

"I think they wanna be sure we MAKE the time, 'Charger!" Brawn growled back, bringing up a chair with his good arm to use as a makeshift shield. The drones were forcing him away from the main conflict, trying to single him out completely.

"Blitzwing!" Windcharger reinforced the magnetic shield between himself and the oncoming enemy, his reserves starting to dwindle. "We need an out!"

But the call seemed to fall on deaf audios, the triple changer circling with Zivven, both combatants glaring at one another intently. After several tense moments, they leapt at one another, Blitzwing's hands seizing the scythe-bearing limbs while Zivven dug his front claws into his foe's chassis. As the two grappled, more drones arrived, flooding in through the main doors to aid their fellow guards and workers.

"Oh, Primus," Windcharger hissed as his shields began to give out. "I knew I shouldn't have gotten out of the recharge berth last shift!"

Field failing, the silver and red mini dropped back and grabbed Veras by one arm, dragging her into a full retreat inside the brig. Reaching over, he hit what he hoped was a release switch and, as luck would have it, the action caused the door to slide shut, locking the drones out.

Too bad it also locked both Windcharger and Veras in.

"I hope you know a way out of this place," the mech said as he turned to the smaller alien at his side.

Veras glanced down the way once before taking his hand in hers. "I only know the parts of the shuttle I've been allowed to see, but I can try. I owe you that much."

As she led him away, Windcharger couldn't help but look back at the door one more time, hoping his fellow Cybertronians could escape on their own.

-------

Ratchet nearly slipped and fell as he hurried through the doors to the command deck, systems complaining about various internal mechanisms needing time to recalibrate before taking further abuse. Getting to Prowl's command chair, he sat down without a second thought, intakes wheezing lowly while he checked the state of the ship's fuel tanks. Grabbing the swiveling console attached to the chair, Ratchet pulled it around fully and sent a message to the refuel station that the Wayfarer would be leaving in a matter of nanokliks, and that they had better withdraw their equipment, finished or not.

As the Alzenian in control of the equipment complied, the shuttle shaking ever so slightly as the robotic arms and braces began to withdraw, Ratchet turned his attention to contacting the other Junkers. But it appeared that something was now jamming the frequency, nothing but static answering the medic's urgent calls.

"Slaggit all to the PIT!" Slamming one fist into the chair's armrest, Ratchet exhaled deeply before burying his face in his other hand. "Alright, alright! Calm down, Ratch. You can't do anything to help the others if you can't think! And you need to think right now. C'mon, you can do this..."

For several nanokliks, Ratchet forced himself to sit in silence, trying to come up with something, anything that he could do in order to turn the situation back to the Junker advantage. But it was in those tense moments of silence that he realized, again, that Jaraxis was missing. His mind wandered, internally probing at their mental link without results.

"Primus DAMMIT!" Gaining his feet, Ratchet held both hands up before him, fingers curling and trembling, voice cracking as he shouted across the room. "Did you bring us back to life, only to have us die at the hands of bounty hunters in open space!? What's the point of all this? Haven't we suffered enough!? If this is it, just get it over with instead of--"

His tirade was cut short as one of the console lights flashed yellow. Ratchet peered at it, realizing that the cargo bay doors had just been opened. A moment later, they shut again. Tearing out of the room, Ratchet half ran, half stumbled down the halls to the lower decks, arriving in the hall outside the cargo bay just in time to see Brawn staggering in with one arm hanging loosely at his side.

"Brawn!" Without a second thought, Ratchet rushed to the minibot's side and helped him remain upright, trying to guide him back up the hall towards the upper decks. "What happened? Where are the others?!"

"Overwhelmed, too many drones...and Zivven..." the other managed to grunt, one optic shuttering. "Got separated..."

The medic's optics widened in horror. "You left them _behind?_"

Brawn shook his head. "Windcharger ran off...with Veras and shut the brig door! Blitzwing grabbed me...hauled me out..."

As they reached the command deck, Ratchet settled the minibot into a chair and fought the urge to begin repairing him, immediately. The others were still missing, possibly still aboard the Everdark and trying to escape against terrible odds. What to do? Primus, what to DO?

"Start the shuttle engines!"

Ratchet startled as Blitzwing's voice came over his communications link. "What? Blitzwing?"

"Start 'em, NOW!"

From where Brawn and Ratchet were situated, they could see the triple changer on one of the monitors, barreling down the docking port and into the Wayfarer, scorched, cut and leaving a trail of fluid behind him. Behind him, several drones were giving chase, wielding a variety of weapons. And yet further back was a group of Alzenian guards, putting their feet to flooring as fast as they could to catch up, rifles at the ready.

Jumping back into the command chair, Ratchet initiated the engine start-up sequence, his fuel tanks churning at the thought of leaving Windcharger behind. As the thrusters came online, roaring behind the craft, Blitzwing made it through the dock port doors and shut them, locking out the angry mob behind him. Once the safety light had come on, indicating all doors were secure, Ratchet pulled the Wayfarer away from the docks and guided it away from Spire Alpha, pushing for as much speed as he dared before hitting open space.

Nearby, Brawn shuttered his optics tightly, a grimace of pain on his faceplate.

-------

The ship had never seemed so quiet or so empty. Drifting through open space well beyond the jurisdiction of Alzen and its space stations, the Wayfarer waited with engines silenced while her remaining and only somewhat able-bodied crew tried to come up with a plan. Seated on the command deck, Ratchet, Brawn and Blitzwing stared at their surroundings with hardly a word to one another, each lost in thought.

"This is my fault." Ratchet's solemn words caused the other two to glance up when he finally spoke, the medic meeting their gazes one after the other. "My plan was full of holes. If I'd thought things through better, everyone would have made it back."

"You're a doctor, not a military strategist, Ratchet," Brawn responded before turning a fierce glare on the triple changer in their midst. "No, I blame that heap of a Decepticon for this! He forced me to leave and wouldn't let me go back for Windcharger!"

Blitzwing effected a dark expression in return. "Did you really want your hide ripped up with blow torches? I threw you out that escape hatch so you wouldn't get killed yet again."

"That's not how we operate! We do NOT leave each other behind! No one EVER gets left behind!" the minibot retorted, shifting in his chair as though to rise and pound the point into the other's helm by hand. But as Ratchet had only done minor and absolutely necessary repairs on them both to keep their vital fluids from spilling, Brawn was forced to sit back down again before getting even halfway out of his seat. "We oughta scrap you for spare parts and use whatever we can off you to keep the others alive until we DO find a cure!"

"I'd _love_ to see you try it, half pint," Blitzwing shot back with a snarl. "You couldn't take a handful of drones, so what makes you think you can take a mech more than twice your size?"

"Don't you underestimate me, you rusted out piece of slag! I'll strip that shoddy armor and beat you to a pulp with your own turret--"

"_Shut up_, both of you!" Ratchet managed to gain his feet for a moment, the tone of his voice and the look on his faceplate enough to silence both mechs almost instantly. Shaking his head, he huffed before collapsing back into his chair with a look of disgust. "Despite what I said earlier about this being my fault, there's no use pointing fingers now. What matters is that not only did we fail to get Veras and the cure, but we lost Windcharger in the same stroke. If they're still alive, we've got to try and rescue them, but the pair of you need to quit with all the fighting. I can't help wonder if all your arguing didn't hinder the mission in the first place! This is bigger than all of us and none of us are really Autobots OR Decepticons, so we can't afford to bicker like this."

"What I don't get is why everyone here seems to think I should just go along with whatever insane plan you come up with, next," Blitzwing growled. "Maybe you think I owe you something, whether it be for 'buying me out of slavery' or for my part in the Autobot City invasion, but I'm not going to repay what I didn't ask for - your help. And I shouldn't have to make amends for my actions in the middle of war. Megatron ordered the attack and I followed those orders."

Brawn's optics narrowed as he sat forward in his chair. "Then why don't you just get the slag out? All you've caused is trouble. I, for one, don't CARE how much you cost. But thanks to you, one of the mechs you helped kill at Autobot City is now in the hands of Tashk! You couldn't leave it at killing him, could you? You had to go and screw his life again!"

"Are you both done? Really? Are you DONE?" Ratchet's voice silenced the pair for the second time, the red and white's face pulled into an angry expression, the corner of his mouth twitching. "I don't care WHAT you think of each other. Blitzwing, if you really want to go, then go. We tried to help you, tried to protect you, but if that doesn't mean slag then maybe you shouldn't be here. I don't think Prowl had any intention of trying to change who you are completely, but we also knew Megatron led you all by fear. He ruled because he was the strongest. I hoped that maybe if we tried to make nice with you, you'd at least be respectful enough of our ways to cooperate for the time being." He then glanced at Brawn, the mini flinching just slightly under the hardened gaze. "As for you, I'm getting tired of your lip. Primus knows I care about you just as much as the rest, Brawn, but you're not helping. I know you're frustrated. I know you're worried. But all this glitching isn't doing a slagging thing to get Windcharger back or restore the others. We may only have one more shot at this, now, and we've got to make it count."

Rising from his chair, Blitzwing snorted and turned towards the door, making his way out. "You do what you want and I'll do what I want. Just don't expect me to be here when you figure all that out."

As soon as the command deck doors had shut behind the departed mech, Brawn slammed his good fist into the armrest of his seat. "Selfish screwheads like him are the reason the Great War dragged out so long! So...I guess it's just down to you and me now, doc. Please tell me you've got at least half a plan we can work off of?"

"Not a one. Truth be told, I'm having a hard time thinking, what with fatigue setting in and Jaraxis still missing. I hate to say it, but I think as soon as we see to our own repairs, we'll have to get a short break on our rechargers. We won't last much longer, otherwise," the other sighed wearily.

The minibot arched an optic ridge in concern. "Jaraxis is _still_ missing? Where the frag is he?"

"I don't know, but I can't seem to contact him. In fact, I can barely sense him at all. It's like...he's too far away to sense properly."

"Let's hope he didn't get out back at Spire Alpha. Going back there now would be a fuster cluck of epic proportions, to quote Spike in one of his more creative moments."

Ratchet nodded and stood up, trying not to let his anxiety show. "For now, let's just get down to the medical bay and get ourselves repaired. I'll lock down the shuttle controls and put the sensors on high alert so we can rest, afterwards."

"Er, shouldn't we make sure Blitzwing is out of here before that?"

"Even if he takes his time in leaving, I don't think we've got much reason to worry. Blitzwing is more concerned about himself than anything and unless he's feeling petty enough to hurt you for mere words, he'll probably just check out when he's ready. But if it makes you feel better, we can lock ourselves inside the med bay and recharge there."

Brawn huffed as he stood up to follow the other Junker out. "That works fine by me. Maybe you're crazy enough to put an ounce of trust in that maniac, but I'm not."

"He did make sure you got out of the Everdark alive."

"Probably so you'd be less likely to slag him when he got back."

"If I was even here when he arrived. Tashk came close to killing me." Ratchet moved towards the command chair and began locking down the Wayfarer. "Besides, even with my current weapons array, I don't think I'd stand a chance against even a broken down triple changer."

"Huh, given what you stood up to in the way of Ch'danth, I think you would, but what's your point in all this?" the mini questioned.

"The point is that I think Blitzwing let the word 'honor' creep into his vocabulary somewhere along the way, but he's not ready to recognize it just yet. As far as we know, Galvatron wants his head on the proverbial silver platter because he did what he thought was best for Cybertron, which included working with our old faction members. I believe Blitzwing is capable of recognizing the greater good and doing what is necessary to achieve it. It's just that sometimes the greater good is hard to see and requires doing things you don't really like doing. Back in the Decepticon ranks, our guest was just another grunt, doing all the dirty work. Destroying things is easier than thinking them over."

As Ratchet finished up and began to head out, Brawn sighed and followed with a shake of his head. "Personally, I think you're putting too much faith in that creep, doc. We are talking about a guy who tried to overthrow Megatron with Astrotrain's help and then make a football field into his base of operations."

"Most of the Decepticons never were Earth culture savvy and those two weren't the only ones who ever tried to dethrone Megatron. There's also no law against a mech learning and getting smarter about things over time."

"You really are being stubborn about this, aren't ya? I would have thought a doctor would have felt the least forgiving after what the Decepticons did to all of us."

Ratchet glanced back, managing a small smirk. "Doctors are healers, and part of the healing process is learning to forgive."

As the pair walked down the corridors towards the medical bay, Brawn mulled their conversation over a bit, finally speaking up again when they reached the sliding doors. "Speaking of forgiveness, think you can forgive my outburst back on the command deck?"

"I don't see why not."

"Thanks, doc. I guess I should quit harping on what's done and tell you how it ended up being done in the first place, anyway?"

Ratched nodded, walking into the med bay and waving towards an open work table with one hand. "That would be good. If I know how it all went wrong, maybe I can actually sleep on the problem once we're through with repairs."

Getting up onto the table, Brawn lay back and tried to get comfortable. "Well, things seemed to be going okay from the time we got in up until we reached the brig. We destroyed all the security cameras on the way up, but I'd say there were about a dozen drones inside that control room. The astrosecond they saw us, it went downhill from there..."

-------

Blitzwing sat down heavily on the berth in his "holding cell", which now lay open to the rest of the shuttle thanks to Prowl's berserker rampage. One of the energon flasks Ratchet had given him still lay on the adjoining table, but he found it empty as he picked it up and shook it. Just looking at the silver container reminded the triple changer of the conversation he'd had with Ratchet just after his briefing with Prowl and the others. They'd discussed the possibility of Blitzwing becoming a Junker at some point, although at the time it had been more of a sarcastic joke between them than anything.

At least, that was how Blitzwing had attempted to take it at the time. Part of him despised being around a bunch of Autobots, former or not, because it seemed they still lacked the guts to do what was necessary when it needed to be done. A few of them were more eager to skip the talking and get right to the fighting, but those were also the ones who wanted the triple changer off the Wayfarer. And then there were Ratchet and Prowl, two mechs who thought and talked far too much for their own good. Both of them were still too soft. Prowl, at least, had a mind for military tactics and had proven in the past that his time spent planning could potentially be hazardous for the enemy's health. Ratchet, on the other hand, still acted more like a physician than a warrior, no matter how much he had talked about his part in that war on Tarth or whatever that mudball planet's name was where they'd all been fighting for a while.

With a low grunt of irritation, Blitzwing realized the Junker way was starting to rub off on him. After all, there he was, lost in thought, when he could have been on his way out the door. What was there to think about? If he stayed with this crew, they would go back for Windcharger and Veras and get themselves killed yet again. If he left, he had a slightly better chance of survival because while Tashk was dealing with the Junkers, Blitzwing would be granted some extra time for escape.

But there were those nagging doubts, the ones had that won over when he was faced with the problem of alerting Rodimus Prime to the Quintesson plan because Galvatron refused to listen to the truth. And those same doubts had made him step between Autobot and Decepticon leaders to make them cease fire for the time being once the Quintessons had been forced off Cybertron, again. It was really that final bit of audacity that made Galvatron go right over the edge. But would there still be a Cybertron at this point if Blitzwing had not gone through with it all? Many of his Decepticon brethren had died in that final fight against Unicron. Their sacrifice would have been for nothing, had Galvatron thrown it all away on arrogance. But, Blitzwing supposed, that was the difference between the new leader and the old. Ratchet was correct; Megatron did lead through power and fear, but he at least had enough sense in him not to go destroying his own troops left and right. And as vengeful as Megatron could be, he never would have wasted the time and energy on hiring foreign bounty hunters to track down a traitor.

Blitzwing raised his arm as if to throw the flask to the floor in frustration, but stopped himself before the silver container left his hand. He still hadn't gotten up to leave the ship, yet, and he told himself it was because he was too low on energy and needed repairs. How far would he get without both? Letting the Junkers run interference with Tashk would mean nothing if Blitzwing couldn't put fair distance between himself and them. Come to think of it, he didn't even know where he would go once he was off the Wayfarer, anyway. Tashk wasn't the only bounty hunter alerted to the price on the former Decepticon's head; the Kruxan was merely the most tenacious and ambitious.

Well, what the slag? No one said bartering was against the rules. He'd catch up on a bit of recharge, then go find Ratchet and strike up some kind of agreement; repairs and a new design in exchange for some help in beating the bounty hunters. Granted, that would also mean talking the Junkers into killing Tashk and his crew, but Blitzwing found his logic to be solid on the matter. If someone was dead, they couldn't be a problem anymore, right?

Well, unless the deity one followed decided to interfere. Laying back on the berth, Blitzwing stared up at the ceiling, letting all but one thought fall away for the time being.

_Primus, if you actually give a damn, prove it. Your Junkers are in over their heads, so let them win or I'm bailing on everything and everyone. I've no use for dead crew mates and even less use for a dead Creator._

-------

As his audios and optics began to come back online, Windcharger groaned, feeling as though he'd just been run down by the world's meanest semi-truck. When the holding cell around him came into focus, however, he realized that he was probably in worse shape than if Motormaster had struck him down. Energy bands bound his arms to his sides, metal shackles on his ankles chained him to the nearby wall. Before him, the cell door bars crackled with energy.

"You are online again?"

The minibot startled at the voice, which spoke in Cybertronian, and nearly hitting his head against the wall he was slumped again. Shuttering his optics a few times, he glanced at the side wall, realizing finally that someone was on the other side of it, one golden, owlish eye visible as it peered through a small crack in the thick metal panels.

"Yeah, barely." Windcharger began running diagnostics, wincing as the results began to reveal a number of malfunctions in various parts of his body, including damage to his transforming cog. "What happened? Where are we? I remember shutting the brig door and running down the way, out into the corridors. I fought two drones and one of them damaged my right leg, making it hard for me to run and then we rounded a bend in the hall, but..." He trailed off, optic cameras going out of focus as he struggled to remember. "That is you, isn't it, Veras?"

"Yes, and we never made it out... Tashk returned to find us trying to escape and he blindsided you when you rounded that corner. I wasn't sure if you would remember that happening or not, since he struck you on the side of your head with the butt of a rifle."

"Great. So now we're BOTH prisoners of tall, dark and scary? Things can't get much worse, I guess."

Veras sighed, shifting her weight as she leaned on the wall. "Your friends must have escaped, at least. Tashk and his crew were furious about it, and about the amount of damage done to all the drones."

"Somehow, leaving the slagger with a very large repair bill isn't too much consolation right now."

The pair sat in silence for several minutes after, each alone with their thoughts and fears, the only sound beyond the sizzle of their cell bars being the echo of the ocassional passing guard drone, feet striking the flooring in an even rhythm. Finally, Veras spoke again.

"I must ask, how do you know Blitzwing? And what is your name? You know mine, but I don't know yours."

"Let's just say that Blitzy and the rest of my crew used to be on rather bad terms, but recent events have forced us all to work together," the mini responded. "And the name's Windcharger."

"So you are all Cybertronian?" There was a note of surprise in her tone.

"We're speaking the language right now, aren't we?"

"Well, yes. But it's so easy for mechanoids to just download language codecs. I thought perhaps you spoke it so that Blitzwing would understand you, since he speaks it fluently. But I suppose I shouldn't be surprised since..."

"Since?"

Veras remained quiet a long moment before replying. "You must all be the ones I designed the virus for. Tashk said he wanted it to work on Cybertronians. I'm...sorry. You seem like a decent being and Blitzwing, despite his rough mannerisms, was kinder to me than Tashk and his people are, so I deeply regret what I've done."

Windcharger balked. "Blitzwing, _kind?_ That really speaks volumes for how this lot treats others. But...how do YOU know so much about Cybertronians?"

"My people... We are, or were, very familiar with your kind. My father was the captain of a salvage group called Novan and--"

"THE Novan?!" Windcharger's optics widened. "The group that used to sell salvage on Tarth?"

"At one point, yes. We did have buyers on that planet." Veras paused, suddenly nervous about the direction of their conversation. "Do you know any Tarthans?"

But rather than answering her question, the mech pressed closer to the wall, hunching down so he could look the smaller alien in the eye through the crack. "Did you find six mechs on an old, abandoned craft and sell them to the Tarthan military? Was it your father's crew that did that?

"We found quite a few abandoned ships on our runs, but--"

"Veras, _please_ just answer my question."

She shrank back from the wall a bit, but nodded, nonetheless. "Yes. At one point, we found what looked like a funeral barge and took six mechanoids from it. Our group was experiencing a difficult time and we were desperate, so we sold all of them to the Tarthans. ...why?"

Slumping back against the wall behind him, the minibot suddenly felt ill, the contents of his fuel tank churning over this latest revelation. So that was what an Occan actually looked like? He'd only heard about them through Ratchet, Prowl and Wheeljack during their time on Tarth and, somehow, he hadn't made the connection between what he saw and what he'd heard.

"Windcharger...?"

Her questioning tone did little to make him stir for several nanokliks, but finally he exhaled heavily through his intakes and glanced back at her through the narrow slit. "I was one of the six. The rest of my crew are the other five."

Stunned silence followed. Windcharger waited nearly a minute and when Veras said nothing, he shook his head and leaned back once more. "I'm more shocked than angry, if that's what you're worried about. If everything we've been through is a testament to the existence of a higher power, it was probably all meant to happen that way, anyway. Your crew played a part in bringing our crew back to life."

"And yet, my actions may have sentenced them to death, once again. I can't say how sorry I am, Windcharger. I never meant to hurt another living being, but Tashk has been keeping me here for a long time, now. If I don't meet his demands, terrible things will happen. I really am truly sorry." Turning away from the wall, she curled up with her head bowed against her knees.

"Seeing as how three of my friends got that virus, yeah. But I guess you've gotta do what you think you gotta do when the going gets this rough," he said in return, frowning as he cast his gaze to the floor...only to see silvery liquid oozing from his side and onto the cold metal below. "Aw, slag. Now I'm losing fluids on top of everything else. Can things get any worse?"

As if in answer, the substance continued to flow until it created a decent sized puddle before sliding away of its own accord. Windcharger grunted in surprise, pushing himself back against the wall with both feet planted against the floor, watching as the quicksilver-like ooze shifted and flowed, taking form and becoming solid. In the next cell over, Veras had turned back and was staring through the gap in the panels, a gasp leaving her as the shape became definite.

"We in trouble here?" Jaraxis looked up at Windcharger, amber Sun Eyes glowing dimly in the low light of the cell.

-------

_Next chapter: ...and it all comes full circle._


	10. Chapter 9: Painful Clarity

_Disclaimer: The Transformers and all related material belong to Hasbro, concept originally created and licensed through Takara Co. LTD. All original characters (c) C.R. Majors._

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Author Note: Wow. This chapter took me forever and a day to finish. Apologies for how long it took! There were bits of this chapter that, for whatever reason, were really difficult to write and I kept going back to change things or pick at the dialogue. Chapter ten won't be a cake walk, either, but it'll be one more step towards the part that I'm really eager to compose, so hopefully it won't take nearly as long as this chapter did. Six months is way, WAY too long to output just six or seven pages of writing! Anyway... Props to Nightwind for the Swoop homage in this part, as I believe she was the one who came up with the idea of him acting as a medical assistant.

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**Running the Gauntlet**

_Chapter 9: "Painful Clarity"_

There had been moments in his past life as Autobot Chief Medical Officer when Ratchet entertained the idea of eventually training Swoop to be his assistant once First Aid "won his crosses." Of course, once the junior medic was fully trained and working efficiently on his own, Ratchet never did find the time to have a word with the Dinobot about the idea. Swoop was, by far, the most easy going and social of the group. And, in the past, Ratchet tended to favor him more than the others even though he was careful never to show it. But as the medic tried to remain online and guide Brawn through repairs on his own chassis, he began to wonder just how much more frustrating it would have been to guide a Dinobot through the same procedures during training sessions.

"Sorry 'bout that, Ratch," the minibot apologized as one hand slipped, giving the patient a slight system shock as a result. "I'm better at breaking things than fixing them."

"So you've said about three times, now," Ratchet replied with one optic shuttered, voice strained a bit with the pain of remaining online during his own operation. "Just try to focus and don't think about anything else but what's in front you. I know it's difficult, but you've got to try."

Brawn shrugged and looked down at his fellow Junker's exposed mid-section innards. "You're sure you want me doing this?"

"What choice do we have? I can't repair all my injuries by myself and with the others either missing or under control of the virus, you're the only one who can help me."

"This is just taking way too long," the other sighed, frustrated. "We should either be recharging or putting together a plan to take down Tashk."

"You really do have a knack for stating the obvious sometimes." The med bay doors had slid open while the minibot was speaking, Blitzwing entering to take in situation before him. "And here I thought the two of you would be finished by now."

Brawn's mouth twitched as he turned towards Blitzwing. "And I thought you were supposed to be on your way out! I don't need commentary from the peanut gallery while I'm trying to work."

The triple changer shrugged as he moved closer. "I took a few megacycles to use a berth. I can't leave without a charge, can I?" He glanced over Brawn, then took in Ratchet's current condition with a frown. "You two are only half finished. It will likely take you another six or seven megacycles to get this job done."

"And you said _I_ had a knack for stating the obvious? Why don't you back off and let me work, bucket head?" Brawn retorted.

Blitzwing allowed a slight smirk to curl his lips. "And how long before your instructor passes out from lack of recharge and pain? What then?"

"_Don't_," Ratchet managed to warn Brawn before the minibot could shoot an insult back at their lingering guest. Exhaling deeply through his intakes in exasperation, the surgeon then glanced up at the triple changer with an arched optic ridge. "If I pass out, we lose time. Now I'm going to suggest that you either get out and leave us to our work or, Primus forbid, you quit heckling our joint efforts and _help_."

"Most Decepticons can handle minor repairs without issue. Give me a record on your schematics and maybe I can help the half-pint finish in half the time," came the even reply, Blitzwing stopping on the side of the operating table opposite of Brawn.

The minibot frowned. "And the catch is?"

"No catch. If you want your surgeon out of surgery, you'll let me help."

Brawn remained unconvinced, pointing a laser welder in the other's direction with a sneer. "Not like it's news, but I don't trust you. You either want somethin', or you need somethin'. What is it?"

"Repairs," Ratchet grunted, one optic half shuttered. "You need repairs before you can leave."

"And I'd rather have an experienced surgeon working on me than an inexperienced one, so if you're not on your feet, I'm not submitting to the blade," Blitzwing responded, his gaze turning on Ratchet.

"If you're not going to help us fight Tashk, repairing you once Ratchet is on his feet will just waste more time! It wouldn't be any different if I did all of the doc's repairs, myself!" Brawn growled.

"Point." The medical officer glanced from Junker to guest. "I'm sorry, but that's time we just can't afford, Blitzwing."

"It wouldn't be if I was leaving, but I'm not." Blitzwing took a moment to savor the look of surprise on both Junkers' faceplates. "The two of you have no chance against Tashk's goon squad on your own and the way I figure it, I owe him a world more of pain. But here's the catch for the two of YOU... If you want my help, you're going to have to do what I say when I say it."

Ratchet's optics narrowed. "What is this, a one mech mutiny?"

"I don't want to captain this flying mess anymore than I want to end up on the scrap heap, but you Autobots, former or not, are still too soft," Blitzwing shot back. "You think you can resolve your problems by debating points with Tashk? Or even trying to use underhanded, passive-aggressive methods of stealing a cure? You can't. I've already told you that once you get on Tashk's list, you're on it until someone dies. So either we die or he and his fellow freaks die. All you Junkers claimed to have fought some other alien war somewhere else, so what makes you afraid to kill now if you had to kill, then?"

"The Ch'danth were some kind of hive mind; they could not be rehabilitated or reasoned with because of the contamination to their entire rac--"

The triple changer cut the medic off with a low growl. "And Tashk isn't contaminated? You've seen what he's capable of and I promise you that isn't the half of it. You can shoot him, stab him and even electrocute him and it's never enough! Not as long as Silth and Zivven are there to back him up. Not as long as he's got Veras as slave labor. If the two of you want to win this thing, you had better be ready to finish what Tashk started without hesitation. He needs to DIE."

Ratchet and Brawn remained silent for several long moments after their guest finished, glancing at one another before turning to gaze at their infected comrades, the three still strapped down on the other side of the med bay.

"So you want us to trade their three lives for our nine," Ratchet finally sighed. "It's not in my nature to take life, but if there is no other way..."

"Then let me do the dirty work, strike the final blows," Blitzwing said. "I'm no Junker. And I was never an Autobot. I've bloodied my hands before and I'll do it again."

"I hate to say it, but the gear head's got a point, Ratch. If we don't make the next try count, it'll probably be our last try. We can't afford to fool around. We have to finish this before we lose anyone else," Brawn agreed with a deep frown.

Despite the seriousness of the situation and the pain in his relays, Ratchet managed a small, weak smile. "Must be near the second coming of Primus if the two of you are actually willing to agree on something besides disagreeing."

Blitzwing shrugged. "So what's it gonna be? Is it gonna be my way or do I leave you two to march to your own deaths...again?"

"Let Blitzwing access my schematic information, Brawn," Ratchet replied wearily, laying back fully as the minibot turned to the side console. "And give me a jolt if something gets too complicated."

"Doc?" Brawn glanced back over one shoulder.

But it was the triple changer who answered. "He's passed out, half-pint. He might still be too soft in my book, but at least he had the nerve to stay awake this long through his own operation."

The other nodded, expression grim. "May as well let 'em rest. Then we can both pass the slag out while he's up and working on you, later."

-------

Jaraxis was getting fidgety. Windcharger and Veras had been discussing the virus for several breems, with the minibot checking periodically to make sure the Tarthan was still paying attention. Jaraxis had no trouble understanding what was being conveyed in terms of the words used, despite Veras' rough and imperfect accent, but not a lot of it made much sense. As the conversation began to wind down into the minibot's explanation of the Tarthan's connection to Ratchet, Jaraxis took to exploring the cell.

"He has a short attention span, even for a Tarthan," Versas commented with a low sigh.

"Unfortunately, he's been that way ever since his brush with the corrupted nanotech on Tarth," Windcharger replied. "None of us know exactly why that is, though, not even Ratchet and he's got that weird telepathic link thing going, like I said. Jaraxis has the capacity to do smart things, but half the time he's more like the shuttle's token pet."

Barely aware that he was the subject of discussion, Jaraxis began to edge closer to the glowing cell bars, their bright color and humming echo catching and holding his attention.

"Jaraxis," Windcharger warned, "Stay away from those. They'll fry you like an Earth insect on a bug zapper and if we make it out of this alive, I don't want to tell Ratchet why his little friend is soot black instead of silver."

"Bright color," the Tarthan responded, not looking back at the Junker.

"Yeah, we know. Now get back here and see if you can't contact Ratchet with that link of yours. He needs to know what's going on," Windcharger said with rising frustration.

Jaraxis did not reply, instead tilting his head back to glance up the length of the glowing cell bars to where they connected with the front cell frame. His gaze moved along the line until he noticed something else interesting - a small grate embedded in the ceiling near the wall to the left.

"Jaraxis, come here!" Windcharger hissed.

But the words fell on deaf ears as the Tarthan turned and scurried up the left cell wall to the grate. He picked at the bolts holding it in place for all of two nanokliks before shifting back into a liquid-like state and sliding right through the small holes. Down below, Windcharger panicked and tried to get to his feet, but only succeeded in toppling over onto his side with an angry grunt.

"Windcharger, are you alright?" Veras questioned anxiously, trying to peer at the minibot through the crack between walls.

"No more damage done than before, except maybe to my pride," he answered, narrowing his optics as he rolled over to glare up at the grate. "Jaraxis is gone, though. Slipped right through those vent holes. No telling where he's going or what he'll get into, either."

Veras sighed, shaking her head. "There's very little we can do, now, except hope that Tashk doesn't catch him. The crew is very intolerant of anything they consider a stow-away or pest problem."

Windcharger struggled to sit upright again, leaning back against the wall with a somewhat pained expression as his multitude of injuries sent pain signals along his relays. "It'll be worse for the little troublemaker if Tashk or any of his goons remember that Jaraxis is associated with my crew. The little guy is pretty hard to kill, but that doesn't mean it can't be done."

Up inside the vents, Jaraxis scurried along on all fours, ears laid back so their tips wouldn't brush the top of the shaft. He really had no idea where he was going or what he was doing, per se, but he did know that he was tired of being confined to one area and he wanted to see what else was going on in the rest of the ship. The idea that he should do something about Veras and Windcharger did occur to him, but every noise he picked up as he moved along distracted him and made it hard to focus on forming a plan of escape.

When he came to a junction in the shaft, he chose to stay his course and kept moving straight ahead, his ears picking up on a low humming that increased in intensity the further he went. Eventually, he reached the end of the tunnel and another closed grate that overlooked a large room crammed with various whirling, clicking, humming machinery. Oozing out through the vent holes, Jaraxis reformed himself before climbing down the nearest wall, his claws finding holds in the panel cracks. There were a couple of drones in the room with him, but they seemed to preoccupied with monitoring the machinery to notice an intrusion by so small and silent a creature as the Tarthan, so he reached the floor unhindered and slid up behind the nearest active console.

Several panels attached to the terminal had writing engraved on them in Kruxan, which Jaraxis only partially understood. Most of his language comprehension outside of his native tongue had been mentally ingrained on him through his connection with Ratchet, who easily picked up new languages and dialects with the aid of codecs. But written script was more difficult to decipher, especially when there were so many noisy distractions about. Suddenly, the idea that the console might have something to do with the cell holding Windcharger and Veras hit Jaraxis and he began feeling over the various bunches of wires, wondering if a little bit of tampering would be enough to free them from their cell. One of the cords was much larger than the rest and was red in color, so it seemed obvious that it would be the most important one out of the lot. Gripping it in both clawed hands, Jaraxis leaned backwards and pulled.

For several seconds, Jaraxis strained, tugging with his feet braced against the metal floor. Then, with an audible pop, the plug part of the cord came loose, causing Jaraxis to fall onto his back, his tail whipping out and brushing the empty socket.. Almost instantaneously, a power surge struck the Tarthan, sending him flying backwards into the wall. As he fell to the floor in a limp mess of limbs and tail, energy still crackling over him as it dispersed, the entire ship shuddered. The drones in the room began to blare alarms as they sought out the source of the power disruption, scooting up and down the aisles of machinery.

Jaraxis groaned, his head throbbing and his limbs responding in slow motion as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. He felt numb through and through, but knew he had to find some place to hide before he was discovered. Legs dragging uselessly behind him, the Tarthan hauled himself over the floor towards the nearest floor vent, which he barely managed to slither through before a drone swept by towards the downed console. Tumbling down through the darkness in a tangle, Jaraxis allowed himself to fall until he finally hit an incline and slid to a stop against one side of the shaft where he lay in a heap for several long minutes. Words and images were flooding his mind, seeping up through a veil that had long divided one part of himself from the other.

"Ratchet..." There was no one to hear the weak, pleading call as Jaraxis lay with his eyes shut, wishing his companion were there to tell him what was going on and that he would eventually be alright. Slowly, the nanotech that comprised his body was healing itself, taking small slivers of the shaft around him to use for the regeneration process. As the minutes passed, the memories flooding his mind began to make more sense, and impact of what he had done to the console finally hit him.

_Windcharger was right_, he thought as the haze continued to clear. _I need to contact Ratchet and tell him what's happened. He needs to know what Veras said about the virus. I've been out of touch for too long and it's time to get back in the game, again._

With a low groan, Jaraxis forced himself to roll over and get back up on all fours again. Shaking and staggering every other step, he ambled further down into shaft, intent on finding his way towards the command deck of the Everdark.

-------

"Open those two, there, and this one as well."

Ratchet came to the sudden realization that he was in the dark, locked inside of a small, rectangular chamber that allowed him to stand upright, but just barely. The voice he'd heard was a bit muffled, spoken in a language he did not recognize, yet somehow understood. It was coming from the other side of the wall...no, make that the bolted door before him. He tried to raise both hands to push against the barrier, but was momentarily distracted by his ability to see through his own arms; they were translucent. Before he could process this sudden change, however, the door came open and he stumbled out...leaving a large part of himself behind.

"It looks salvageable. Take it."

Ratchet looked down. Several smaller, organic aliens scurried about, hurrying to pull what remained of his solid, but mortally damaged body from the chamber. As the medic watched, he realized he was witnessing his own grave being robbed by the Novan Occan. Nearby, others dragged the mutilated bodies of Wheeljack and Prowl towards a large exit on hover transports. Trying to stop them would be pointless; Ratchet knew he was witnessing history being replayed, somehow. But whether it was a true vision or a twisted nightmare, he couldn't be sure.

Suddenly, the scenery blurred violently, swirling and changing. Stumbling back a step, Ratchet could only watch as the world around him reorganized itself into the interior of a large space vessel, placing him in the vicinity of what appeared to be a brig. Voices reached him yet again and he turned to see the monstrous form of Tashk nearby, speaking in Kruxan to someone locked in a cell. The bounty hunter held something in one hand, but the item was so small that his clawed fingers hid it almost completely.

"You let him escape, you miserable wench! One more rebellious act and I will destroy my little bargaining chip!"

No words followed, only incoherent, sobbing pleas. Tashk snarled in disgust and stalked off, allowing Ratchet to see into the cell where a female Occan crouched, weeping into a piece of her own torn clothing. For a long, uncomfortable moment, the Junker could only stand and watch, unable to comfort her, unable to interfere. But even without being able to see her face clearly, he made the connection.

She had been in the Autobot Mausoleum.

Simply put, the coincidence was staggering. The alien female had to be Veras, and Veras had been one of the grave robbers. Suddenly, everything made almost too much sense. Of course one of the Novan Occan would know how to poison the system of a Cybertronian; they had repaired all the Junkers before selling them off on Tarth. But how in the name of the Matrix had Tashk gotten his grubby paws on her? And who had Veras allowed to escape? ...Blitzwing?

Everything faded to black, leaving the medic to float aimlessly through darkness for several minutes.

"We don't have a lot of time."

"Jaraxis?" Ratchet turned in the direction of the familiar voice, relieved to hear it. The metallic Tarthan materialized in front of him, but the silvery sheen faded away a moment later to leave the little alien looking as he had before his final run-in with L'Ranna. For the first time in a long time, Jaraxis sounded like his old self. "What's going on? Where are you?"

"I'm currently onboard the Everdark with Veras and Windcharger. Both of them were taken prisoner and are locked in neighboring cells in the brig. I knew you'd be worried, but I stowed away inside Windcharger when he and the others left on the rescue mission. I just wanted to help, even if I didn't really know how at the time."

Feeling both relief and dread at the same time, Ratchet tried to keep his cool. "Slagging right I would have been worried. In fact, I'm worried right now! But at least you're all still alive." He paused. "That is, if you're contacting me in real time?"

Jaraxis nodded. "The three of us being alive is good news, but I don't know for how much longer. Tashk is beyond angry. He's done playing games. I've been trying to scout around his ship to see if I can find a way to free Veras and Windcharger and get them out, but so far I've only managed to cause one major malfunction. But at least it's distracted the goon squad for a while."

"We'll need all the time we can get. The only reason I'm down and out right now is because Brawn and Blitzwing are trying to repair me, and once they're done, I have to turn around and repair Blitzwing. I don't even know how we're going to get you out of the Everdark, yet!"

"I don't know, either, but the other reason I contacted you was because I do have one other bit of good news. And...one other bit of bad news."

"And they are?"

Jaraxis hesitated, rubbing the back of his head with one hand. "Veras told us about the virus Tashk forced her to create to stop you guys. You were right about what it's doing and what it will eventually do to Prowl and the others, but...there is no cure on the Everdark."

Ratchet swore he could feel his fluids run ice cold back in the real world. "Wh-what? Is she sure? But if there's no cure where you are, then..."

"We only have one chance at a permanent cure and it means reaching Cybertron before it's too late. Apparently, all their systems need to be reset and restored safely, and the only known compound that will cause that when properly mixed with energon is something called Cybertronium. Windcharger said you had to use it once years before your deaths because you had been away from your home planet for too long and your systems were deteriorating. You'll have to use it again to stop the deterioration caused by the virus."

"We'll...we'll never make it back in time." The medic's optics glowed a soft blue, his voice wavering. "Even if we left you, Windcharger and Veras in the hands of Tashk, we'd never make it!"

"Well, there is one other thing and it might actually make the difference."

"...and that is?"

The Tarthan floated closer. "There's another compound that can be used to slow the deterioration, and it may be a lot closer than Cybertron. Veras says it's called zaphrite. Her people used a certain mix of it with something else to jump start your systems after they stole your bodies from the mausoleum. But that stuff will only slow the deterioration, not stop it. Still, it might buy us the time we need to actually reach Cybertron."

"Or Earth, as I never let the medical store houses there run out of Cybertronium after our brush with death all those years ago," Ratchet added, his spirits lifting a little. "If Perceptor and First Aid have made sure to keep it in stock, that will actually give us two options. Depending on where we are relative to Cybertron and Earth, we can choose the closer one and head for it, first."

"More options are always better," Jaraxis agreed. "I just don't know how easy it'll be for you to find the zaphite. Veras says it's pretty plentiful in a lot of places, but I don't even know where 'here' is compared to 'there' right now."

"Just knowing the name of that stuff is enough. If I run it through the Wayfarer's database, hopefully all those information discs and downloads we've been collecting in addition to star charts and language codecs since we left Tarth will actually turn up something useful."

"I'm glad to see you in slightly better spirits, Ratch, but there is just one other thing."

Rachet blinked. "What's that?"

"I know we're all really divided right now, but I don't know how long sabotage games will stall Tashk. It may keep him off your tail for the time being, but if he gets it in his head to take his rage out on Veras and Windcharger..."

The mech's expression turned grim once more. "Yeah, I know. But this time we're playing for keeps. I almost hate to say it, but Blitzwing's convinced us that we need to knuckle down and finish this completely. We'll figure out a rescue effort on our end in conjunction with finding some zaphite. You just try to keep Tashk chasing his own tail."

Jaraxis nodded. "Will do. And now that I've got more of my wits about me, I can contact you telepathically and keep you updated on our situation."

"By the way, how did you come back to yourself again so suddenly?"

"We'll call it accidental electroshock therapy and leave it at that."

Ratchet arched an optic ridge. "You got into something you shouldn't have, didn't you?"

"I wouldn't put it like that, but that first malfunction I caused did have something to do with it," came the innocent reply.

At that moment, Ratchet's body flickered, becoming translucent again. He glanced down at his own hands before looking up at Jaraxis again. "Brawn and Blitzwing must be trying to bring me back online."

"Get Blitzwing repaired and try to come up with a plan, then contact me when you know what it is," Jaraxis replied. "Just don't take too long!"

Then Ratchet was gone, pulled away by a sudden flash of light.

-------

"Time to get up, sunshine."

Brawn's sarcastic tone was not a pleasant sound to wake up to, but Ratchet forced his optic shutters open regardless and sat up on the operating table, noticing that his panels were closed and locked once more. He immediately started a diagnostic, nodding to himself as one by one his operating systems came up green.

"Well?" the minibot questioned gruffly after a moment. "Anything still feel slagged up?"

"No, actually," Ratchet said with a faint smirk. "I think you two actually managed to get everything done without converting me into a coffee machine. How long was I out?"

"About three mega-cycles, but please, hold your applause," Blitzwing responded with the barest hint of a wry smile, catching both Junkers off guard with his sudden show of wit.

"You spent a lot of time twitching while you were out, though," Brawn said, shifting the subject a little. "Don't tell me you could still feel us messing with your insides?"

Ratchet shook his head. "It wasn't that. I had a couple of visions and then Jaraxis contacted me. He's hiding aboard the Everdark."

This bit of news was met with a pair of blank stares before Brawn managed a response. "How in the name of Primus did he get on board?"

"He stowed away inside Windcharger's chassis, and before you ask, yes, Windcharger and Veras are still alive," the medic explained as he turned and slid off the table. "He told me that he's done something to the Everdark to keep its crew occupied for a short while, but he's not sure how long, exactly."

"Does he know where the cure for the virus is or what Tashk's next move will be?" Blitzwing asked.

Ratchet was silent a moment before answering, his mouth momentarily pulling into a thin line. "He says there is no cure and no, he doesn't know anything about Tashk's plans."

"Whoa, wait a 'klik there," Brawn exclaimed, holding up both hands. "Did I just hear you say 'there is no cure'? If that's true, what the frag are we supposed to do, now? All that time we spent with Windcharger getting captured was for nothing!"

Blitzwing's expression, meanwhile, remained unreadable. "Huh, that doesn't surprise me. Why keep something around that can help your enemies?"

"But what about Veras? She'd know how to program a cure, right?" Brawn demanded.

"She does, but she wouldn't be able to do it without Cybertronium." Ratchet watched as dismay clouded the smaller Junker's expression. "We'd need to mix it with energon to cause a full system reboot and restore in our infected comrades. But since we don't have any and we're still too far from both Earth and Cybertron to make it in time, we'll need another compound called zaphite that might slow the effects of the virus long enough for us to make the trip. It all means we'll have to split up to work on this or we'll end up losing all the way around because at this point, even waiting until we can get Veras to help us might mean the difference between life and death for Prowl, Wheeljack and Ironhide."

"So stop flapping your intakes and start planning while you work on me," Blitzwing growled as he hauled himself up onto the table Ratchet had occupied just moments before. "And if I wake up to find you've tried to tamper with any of my core programming, I'll rip out both pairs of your optics. Got me?"

Ratchet swallowed his own irritation at the triple changer's orders and forced a grim smile. "No need to alter your charming personality before you've had a chance to meet up with Tashk again, Blitzwing. Now offline yourself so we can fix your tattered carcass."

-------

_Next chapter: Help from an unexpected source._


	11. Chapter 10: Divide and Rescue

_Disclaimer: The Transformers and all related material belong to Hasbro, concept originally created and licensed through Takara Co. LTD. All original characters (c) C.R. Majors._

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Author Note: Hey, a new chapter and it took less than a few months' time! I totally and fully admit I jumped the gun a little with the last chapter's "next time around" line at the end. I really got into writing bits of this one and realized I'd have to save some of what I wanted to do for chapter eleven, instead. But fortunately that chapter is almost done at this point, too.

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**Running the Gauntlet**

_Chapter 10: "Divide and Rescue"_

Jaraxis leaned back against the ventilation shaft wall, rubbing his head with one hand as he listened to the roaring of an angry Kruxan echo up through the grate mere feet from him. Contacting Ratchet in his already weakened state had taken a lot out of him and it would be a short while before he could manage to do it again. Below on the main command deck, Tashk was snarling at one of the communication screens, the anxious face of Silth staring back at him.

"I don't care _how_ it happened! FIX IT!" the big Kruxan yelled, banging one massive fist against the console.

"S-sorry!" Silth stammered back, wincing. "It's...it's just an electrical issue. It won't take long! All I have to do is install a new port and take out the damaged one that got fried when-"

"Shut up and DO IT!"

Silth nodded vigorously before terminating the connection on his end, obviously intent on doing his Commander's bidding before any actual threats were made. Tashk snorted in disgust and paced back towards Zivven, who lay on the floor near the main entrance. The handful of drones around them continued to run diagnostic checks on the Everdark, still getting errors while the ship's failsafe devices continued to malfunction. The Everdark could still run, but if any engine trouble or navigation issues came up, the system would fail to notify its crew.

"This is taking too long!" Tashk rumbled irritably, trying to calm down after his outburst as he paced. "We should have that Decepticon in our hands already! Our next move must be our final one before we lose any more time and resources."

Zivven remained silent, watching and listening as his superior stalked about, two of his four eyes blinking slowly.

"I could infect our newest prisoner with the virus and let that finish him off," the Kruxan went on thoughtfully. "It would be a well deserved death, and the more Cybertronians I have to present to Galvatron, the better. Although perhaps a living prisoner would be better than a dead one? I could always treat that small robot to the same fate I have in mind for Blitzwing. As Galvatron probably has no intention of paying the bounty on his runaway soldier, it would be a nice precaution. And a moment of vulnerability is all we'll need to take what we really want."

Jaraxis leaned forward, hoping to hear more, but Tashk turned and left the command deck, leaving Zivven behind. Fear gripped the Tarthan; was Tashk on his way to kill Windcharger? Scrambling back down the shaft, he tried to remember the path he'd taken previously in order to make it back to the brig ahead of the Kruxan. Twice he made wrong turns and by the time he slid up to the grate overlooking the minibot's cell, Tashk was already standing in the brig just outside the glowing cell bars, but he was not looking in on Windcharger.

"Veras," Tashk said as he deactivated the Occan's cell bars. "I have a new job for you."

Jaraxis placed one ear against the grate, straining to hear every word as Veras responded. "No! No more jobs, Tashk! I'm done being your advocate for murder and suffering!"

There was a grunt of irritation from the Kruxan. "Have you forgotten about our little agreement again? I'm getting tired of keeping my bargaining chip safe and if you don't do as I say, I will destroy it."

Veras did not reply, but instead shrieked as she was seized and hauled out of her cell. Windcharger cursed and crawled to the front of his own cell, scowling up at his captor. "Let go of her!"

"You will be the last in your family line if you do not comply!" Tashk snarled as he dangled the Occan in front of him, ignoring Windcharger completely. "And as it seems you and the Cybertronian have become fond of one another in your short time as neighbors, he will be the next one to die if you don't do as you're told! I am through playing games!"

"Whatever he wants, don't do it!" Windcharger shouted defiantly. "This has to end somewhere!"

Tashk continued to shrug off the minibot's protests as he glared at Veras. "So...what will it be? Compliance, or will I have to take two lives instead of one?"

Veras was sobbing again, but she nodded her head. "I...I will comply... What would you have of me, my Commander?"

Smirking in triumph, Tashk set her on her feet and put a shackle and chains around her neck before leading her away. "That is not for your little friend to hear. Now come... Time is short."

Leaving his post at the grate, Jaraxis ran back up the shaft, trying to decide which way Tashk was going. Listening hard, he turned at a junction into unfamiliar territory, scampering along and attempting to watch through any vent openings available to make sure he was still on the right track as the Everdark's Commander dragged his captive down the halls below. Finally, Tashk stopped before a heavy door where two drones stood guard on the outside. As the barrier slid to the side to allow access, Tashk pulled Veras inside with him, instructing one guard to remain on the outside while the other was to follow them in and stand watch there. Positioning himself over the room's single grate, Jaraxis watched as Tashk practically threw his prisoner into a seat before what appeared to be a large drafting table in the center of an engineering workshop.

"These are my orders." Tashk produced a data pad from a compartment on his belt and tossed it on the table. "You will do as commanded or I will follow through on my threats. Understood?"

As Veras picked up the pad with shaking hands and began to look over the details, she shook her head. "You can't do this! This is worse than the virus! I-"

"COMPLY!" Tashk bellowed, silencing her. "I have waited a lifetime for payback on my tortured existence, and no sniveling Occan or rebellious Cybertronian will stop me! We have been fortunate that the Quintessons have not yet succeeded and I will not allow them the pleasure of victory before I can play my final hand! You will build that device and it _will_ work. Then when we have the final component, you _will_ complete the last part of installation. Understood?"

Veras could only nod once, sobbing again as she laid the data pad on the table before her. Tashk grunted and glanced back at the drone by the door.

"Watch her. Inform me if she stops working. Destroy anyone who enters this room unless it is myself, Silth or Zivven."

The drone blipped in understanding. "Affirmative."

"My drones will start delivering materials shortly," Tashk said as he opened the door to leave. "I will expect a progress report within six mega-cycles."

As the door shut behind the Kruxan, Jaraxis leaned back inside the shaft, shivering. There was no sense into trying to get to Veras now, not with drone guards on both sides of the door. For the moment, it seemed that both she and Windcharger were safe, but that didn't mean that Tashk wasn't planning a second strike against the remaining Wayfarer crew, so something else would need to be done to slow the Everdark down.

Making his way back down the shaft, Jaraxis focused on finding something else to break.

--------

Blitzwing grunted as he came online and sat up, glancing at the pair of Junkers on either side of the operating table before looking down at his own chassis. His internal chronometer informed him that he had been offline for approximately five Earth hours. "You two done or not?"

"As done as we can be for now," Ratchet replied as he pulled the last of his onboard instruments back into the compartments on his wrists and hands. "In addition to patching and replacing parts of your damaged armor, I've reactivated your transformation cog; you now have access to your flight capable alt mode. Transition will probably be slower and rougher than usual, but I figured it's better than nothing."

"Let me guess... That cog will probably need to be completely replaced at some point?" Blitzwing inquired as he got off the table.

The medic nodded. "Without a doubt, so don't press your luck."

"And despite _my_ better judgment, Ratch also fixed about half of your onboard weapons," Brawn added with a frown. "But if you even think for an astrosecond that using them on us would be a good idea, I'll follow through on my favorite threat and cram your tank barrel down your intake."

The triple changer smirked as he started running his diagnostics. "You two aren't worth the ammunition. I'm saving it all for Tashk and Zivven."

"A comforting thought," Ratchet responded with a smirk of his own as he cleaned off the table. "So, now that we've all had a little recharge time and aren't falling to pieces, what are we going to do about Tashk?"

"Why ask us?" Brawn said as he glanced at the medic. "You're the one with all the quick processors. I just break stuff good."

"Because my last plan resulted in all us getting trashed and Windcharger being captured?"

"Your plan had merit, just a few too many holes," Blitzwing said with a shrug, his compliment surprising both Junkers. "It might've worked out better if we'd taken them head on instead of trying to sneak around the obstacles. Remember that only three of their crew members have any smarts to them. The rest are drones that rely on orders to operate fully, as everything else they're programmed to do is simply to defend the Everdark and repair it when it's damaged."

"Well, one thing I do know," Ratchet sighed as he finished tidying up, "is that we're going to have to divide ourselves again to get this all done before it's too late. One of us is going to have to locate and gather the zaphite, while the other two do something about Tashk."

"Getting the zaphite is gonna have to be your job, Doc. Bucket head and I wouldn't know what to look for or how much to get, much less what to do with it," the minibot said.

The triple changer made a low "tsk" sound of what sounded like disgust. "I hate it, but half-pint has a point. It'll have to be the two of us that go in to get Windcharger and Veras."

"Not that we have a plan or even an opening for an attack, but...you two? Are you sure?" Ratchet inquired, optics widening. "I'm half worried you'll kill each other before you can kill Tashk!"

Brawn folded his arms across his chest. "Believe me, it's not my idea of a picnic, either, but we don't have much choice. Besides, we're built for combat, Ratch. You did your share of fighting on Tarth, but you're more doctor than warrior."

Ratchet was about to say something more on the subject of dividing up when the console behind him blipped to warn of an incoming transmission. The other two stiffened noticeably before Blitzwing grabbed Brawn by one arm and hauled him out of sight of the view screen.

"Tashk," he growled in warning, causing Brawn to cease any protest. "Ratchet, answer it. And don't say anything stupid!"

Offering Blitzwing a frown in response to the command, Ratchet seated himself in front of the console screen and answered the call. The face of Tashk greeted him from the other side, the Kruxan's lips curled back to reveal his sharp fangs in what was no doubt a scowl.

"You again," the bounty hunter growled, eyes narrowing. "Where is your commander? I wish to negotiate the release of your little friend."

Ratchet felt his fuel pump lurch, but did his best to maintain a straight face. "Deal with me, then. What are your terms?"

The scowl melted into a devious smile. "So... You really are the highest ranking officer on board that crate you call a shuttle? Have all those above you truly fallen victim to my virus as I suspected before? No, don't answer, Cybertronian. Don't offer excuses. I'll see through them all."

"Is this a social call, Tashk, or do you actually wish to negotiate?" the medic asked, one optic ridge twitching in anger.

"Oh, I do wish to talk trade, robot. I have something you want and you have something I would very much like to have. The idea is simple - your crew member in exchange for Blitzwing, but I wish to make the exchange at my base of operations."

_Don't think for one astrosecond that he'll keep his word!_ Blitzwing warned over an internal comm link.

_I know he won't, but let's hear what else he has to say and figure out if we can turn this to our advantage,_ Ratchet respond in turn before replying to Tashk. "And your base of operations is where?"

"I will transmit the coordinates, now."

As the information cleared the Wayfarer's hostile program checker, Ratchet brought it up on a side screen and glanced over it. What appeared to be Tashk's personal space station was some distance away, but it orbited a fairly large planet listed in the shuttle's database as Jerl. It was described as no more than a mostly barren planet made out of rock with very limited, unintelligent forms of life on it. On a sudden whim, however, Ratchet cross referenced the location of the station and Jerl with zaphite.

"Well, robot?" Tashk demanded. "What is your answer?"

"A moment," Ratchet said as he worked, careful to make sure his search could not be hacked through the transmission. "I am calculating the distance and travel time relative to my shuttle's location."

This answer seemed to satisfy the bounty hunter long enough for the computer to finish its search and turn out some results. Ratchet forced his mouth into a thin line as the system revealed some favorable results. "You have yourself a deal. How long will you give us to reach your space station?"

Tashk smirked in triumph. "Twelve mega-cycles. Given what I know of your ship, that is twice the time you will need to reach my station. And when you arrive, no tricks! We will make the trade insides the docks, one prisoner for another. Be warned that I will have an army of drones at the ready, so any attempts to run off with both prisoners will result in your capture and possible death. Understood?"

"I understand, and we'll be there within your time limit."

The transmission cut and Ratchet sank into his chair, breathing a sigh of relief through his vents.

"Tell me you've already got a plan, Doc, because it sounds like he's trying to draw us into a trap," Brawn said as he and Blitzwing rejoined the medic.

"No doubt," the triple changer agreed. "But the non-combatant here was busy doing something while talking with Tashk. Care to share, Doc?"

Ratchet nodded. "When he transmitted the coordinates, I cross-referenced them with any known and nearby locations that might have supplies of zaphite. Tashk's station orbits a planet named Jerl, which isn't far from another called Ivix that used to be a mining planet, so it likely will still have zaphite available for the taking."

"I'm sure Tashk doesn't expect our entire crew to show up at his station, so Brawn and I can go while you get the zaphite from Ivix," Blitzwing suggested. "I'll just have to play the part of prisoner until it's time to turn the tables. It's practically a suicide mission, but I'll take that over any more of this sneaking around idiocy we've been doing lately.

"Let's just hope one extreme is better than the other," Ratchet said. "And while you're freeing Windcharger, Veras and retrieving Jaraxis, I can head to Ivix and get the zaphite. You two can take the Wayfarer's emergency escape shuttle to Tashk's space station, as that will keep the Wayfarer itself out of reach."

"That just leaves what weapons we'll need and how to hide 'em," Brawn said thoughtfully. "Did Wheeljack ever build anything that could help us, now?"

Getting out of his seat, Ratchet headed for the door that led out of med bay and into the engineering storage room. "This is Wheeljack we're talking about. If he didn't already build it, he's likely got plans for it laying around somewhere."

Brawn glanced at Blitzwing and shrugged, the two following the medic to see what they could find.

-------

It had been nearly five mega-cycles since Tashk had dragged Veras off. Windcharger sat against the back wall of his own cell, silent and fuming, occasionally trying his broken internal communicator as though there was actually some hope he'd get through to the Wayfarer. He sensed the Everdark was in motion again, but as to where it was headed, he had no clue. Just as he was about to try and get in a little recharge, however, something up by the ceiling grate caught his optic.

"Jaraxis!"

The Tarthan slithered through the opening and down the wall, shushing the minibot as he moved. Keeping to the shadows, Jaraxis crawled up behind one of Windcharger's arms so he would be out of sight. "I know where they've taken Veras."

Windcharger shuttered his optics in surprise, but remembered to keep his voice down. "You're talking normally again? What happened? Where's Veras?"

"I had a bit of an accident with part of the Everdark's failsafe controls in the engine room," the other explained shortly. "We'll just say the sudden shock jogged my memory. I've been exploring the ventilation system, sabotaging things here and there to keep the drones occupied and Tashk on his toes."

"And Veras? What's happened to her?"

"Tashk shut her in some kind of workshop and told her to build something according to some plans he had on a data pad. I don't know what, exactly, but it doesn't sound good. It seems he wants to do to you whatever he plans to do to Blitzwing."

Windcharger frowned. "Can you get me out of here? We need to get back to Ratch and the others before anything else goes wrong!"

"How? We've got no means of escape even if I get you out of this cell. I've already contacted Ratchet and told him about the zaphite. He and the others are probably looking for some right now and if we're lucky, figuring on how to break us out of here."

"I just hope they're quick about it because the clock is still ticking."

"No kidding, and now the Everdark is moving, again."

"I had a feeling we were in motion again. Any idea where we're headed?"

Jaraxis nodded. "Tashk's base of operations, which I guess is some sort of space station. I heard him mention going there to Zivven just a short while ago. I'll need to contact Ratchet again and let him know what's going on."

"Well, don't just sit there," Windcharger urged. "Do it, already!"

"Give me a nanoklik, would you? This kind of thing takes a little bit of warm up time, especially with all this distance between us."

Crouching down, the Tarthan shut his Sun Eyes, the Moon Eye on his forehead opening...

-------

"You okay, Doc?"

Brawn turned as Ratchet grunted and fell to his knees, his hands on the sides of his head. The minibot and triple changer ceased their last minute remote diagnostic checks on the evacuation shuttle to check on the medic as he began muttering to himself.

"It's...Jaraxis," he managed to say, optics shuttering. "Hold on..."

Blitzwing and Brawn stood by for several minutes in the cargo hold, watching as their comrade twitched every so often in his communication with the Tarthan.

"Doesn't look fun," Blitzwing commented, breaking the silence.

Brawn grunted in agreement as he grabbed a flash of energon from a nearby work bench. "No, it doesn't."

The triple changer tilted his head to one side. "All I have to say is that if this sort of thing is what it's like to be bonded, I'm sticking to the bachelor life."

There was a loud gurgle and a cough as Brawn choked on his drink. Blitzwing smirked in a self satisfied sort of way. Before the gasping mini had a chance to comment on the former Decepticon's purposeful lack of "brain mouth filter", however, Ratchet unshuttered his optics and staggered back to his feet.

"The Everdark is enroute to the space station," he reported shortly. "And Tashk has Veras working on some new project. Jaraxis says it has something to do with what he intends to do with Blitzwing, and Windcharger. I warned Jaraxis about the meeting, and told him that you two would be on your way there shortly."

"Huh, like we ever expected him to let 'Charger go?" Brawn huffed as he capped the flask. "What else did 'Rax say? The little troublemaker's been more talkative in the last few hours than he has been in the last few months."

"He's much closer to normal than he was when we left Tarth, thanks to a run in with some malfunctioning electrical ports. But he also mentioned that Tashk seems like he's got plans involving Galvatron as well, that he doesn't expect to be paid for bringing you in, Blitzwing."

"He's probably right," Blitzwing agreed. "Galvatron uses and abuses everyone and everything. It was enough to make me go against his orders, remember? But if it's a double-cross that hairy bag of slag has in mind, he'd better make sure he goes in prepared. Galvatron killed Starscream. He'd kill Tashk just as easily."

"Well, we've got our own double-cross to plan, here. And I'm more than ready and willing to roll out if you two are," Brawn reminded them.

Picking up Jaraxis' old portable force field, which he'd modified slightly for size difference, Ratchet handed it to Brawn. "Here's for Veras in case she needs protection in the middle of a firefight. The evac shuttle looks as ready as it'll ever be, and our rendezvous point if nothing goes wrong will be on the surface of Jerl at the coordinates we decided on."

"Easy, Doc, don't jinx us." Brawn smirked as he accepted the device. "Just try to stay safe, yourself, and have some of that zaphite ready for use by the time we meet up."

"I'll try, and here are a few more items for your end of the mission." Ratchet picked up a pair of beam knives from his work bench and handed them to Brawn. "They're easier to conceal than your gauntlets and I've attached a small energy dampener to each one. As long as they can't be seen, Tashk and his drones won't know you have them."

"But these belong to Wheeljack, Ratch, I can't just-"

"You can and you've got to, Brawn. Just take them. They're no use to 'Jack right now, anyway." The surgeon then picked up a rather familiar melee weapon and held it out to Blitzwing. "And this is for your use. Prowl would understand, I'm sure."

Blitzwing accepted the beam sword with a look of mild surprise. Holding it in his right hand, he examined the hilt and handle. "You're giving me your commander's weapon?"

"Loaning," Ratchet corrected, arching an optic ridge. "It's got a dampener on it just like Wheeljack's knives so you can keep it and hide it more effectively. This may be an effort to get Windcharger back, liberate Veras and cure the rest of the Junkers, but I'm not interested in leaving you to the wolves, Blitzwing. And if you want to fight Tashk, you'll need more than your two fists."

For a moment, Blitzwing said nothing in return. Then he nodded and tucked the weapon away in a compartment in his left arm. "I'll be sure to use it well."

"Jaraxis will try to help you once you're inside the space station," Ratchet added. "I don't know what he's got in mind, but it seems like he plans on extending his sabotage games to your advantage."

Hiding away Wheeljack's knives, Brawn put on the same grin he used to get back on Earth when it was time to take on the Decepticons. "Hey, every little bit helps. Now let's go kick some tailgate."

After gathering up a few more items that might be useful, Blitzwing and Brawn boarded the small shuttle and prepared to depart. The little craft was attached to the Wayfarer's belly between sections of the landing gear, a double set of airtight hatches between it and floor of the cargo hold the only way in and out. As Ratchet shut the first hatch behind Blitzwing, he stood back to wait for word that they were ready to disengage. Not a minute later, Brawn's "a-okay" came over their comm link and the Wayfarer shuddered as the evac shuttle pulled away. Suddenly feeling very alone, Ratchet made his way back up to the command deck to plot a course to Ivix with the help of the ship's navigation system and auto-pilot.

-------

_Next chapter: Why the planet Ivix was left to rot..._


	12. Chapter 11: Good Samaritan

_Disclaimer: The Transformers and all related material belong to Hasbro, concept originally created and licensed through Takara Co. LTD. All original characters (c) C.R. Majors._

------- 

**Running the Gauntlet**

_Chapter 11: "Good Samaritan"_

"'Rax? 'Rax, are you okay?"

Jaraxis groaned softly as Windcharger nudged him with one elbow. Picking himself up off the floor, the Tarthan took a moment to let his Sun Eyes refocus. "Yeah, just a little dizzy. That last attempt really drained me, but I got through to Ratchet. He knows what's going on and he told me that Tashk contacted him about trading you for Blitzwing. The Everdark's heading for Tashk's base of operations, some space station thing."

Windcharger's optics widened slightly. "They're not actually going to agree to a trade, are they? There's no way Tashk will keep his end of the bargain! It'll be trap!"

"That's what Ratchet thinks, too. So he's sent Blitzwing and Brawn as though they're coming to make the trade, but they'll be here to free all of us, instead. They're coming on the Wayfarer's evac shuttle with hidden weapons. I told Ratch I'd do what I could from the inside, see if I can't give our guys some kind of advantage. I also told him about the zaphite and he's going to see if if he can locate some."

"How long do we have?"

Jaraxis shrugged. "Not sure. Maybe only a few mega-cycles."

"Listen, Jaraxis, there's something I need you to do for me," Windcharger said. "Before you got back and Tashk took Veras, I was talking with Veras about how she ended up here. She told me that at one point before Tashk kidnapped her and killed all her crewmates, the Occan had Blitzwing with them. They had caught him in a weakened state and were thinking of selling him, but Veras found out about Blitzwing's situation and when Tashk tracked him to the Occan ship, she freed him and he got away before Tashk could get him. Veras isn't working for Tashk because she's afraid of what he'll do to her."

"What? But why, then?" Jaraxis laid his ears back. "Does it have something to do with that bargaining chip he mentioned? I thought her say something about that while you two were talking earlier, too."

"It took a little convincing on my part to get her to spill everything. She feels really guilty about letting this happen, but... When Tashk found her, the only family she had were her father, who Zivven killed, and her unborn offspring."

The other's eyes widened considerably. "What, she was pregnant with a litter?"

"Occan apparently don't have live born litters like your kind do, Jaraxis. Veras had an _egg_ with her and Tashk took it. She told me that Occan eggs have lengthy incubation periods, but that her egg should be ready to hatch any time now. Well...that is... If Tashk hasn't taken so terrible care of it that the offspring inside died."

"So that's what this is about... Tashk is holding her only family hostage. Any idea where that egg might be?"

Windcharger shook his head. "I don't and Veras wasn't sure, either. But if you can, please look for it. Try to get it back. Veras said it isn't very big so if you can find it, you might be able to hide it inside the ventilation shafts until Brawn and Blitzwing arrive. If all our plans fall through, the unborn Occan inside that egg is going to be the biggest loser of us all."

"The things parents do for their young," Jaraxis sighed, unable to resist thinking of his late father and brother, who had paid the ultimate price to provide for the family. "Alright, I'll try, but I can't make any promises. This ship is pretty big and I'm limited to traveling through the ventilation system."

"I appreciate the effort, and I'm sure Veras would, too."

"Just be ready to fight and flee when the time comes, Windcharger. I get the feeling we're gonna be real pressed for time."

The minibot managed a half smile as Jaraxis left his side to crawl back up the wall to the grate. "I've been ready since the moment I arrived in this stinking heap."

Stopping by the edge of the grate, Jaraxis glanced back. "By the way, what does that egg look like, anyway?"

"Light white-blue in color and if I had to guess, probably oblong shaped like a bird's or reptile's egg."

"'Bird'? 'Reptile'?"

"Just go, 'Rax!"

"Fine! Don't get your wires in a twist." Melting through the grate, Jaraxis vanished from sight.

-------

Ratchet could not sit still. Not for more than a few breems at a time. His restless behavior on board the Wayfarer as the craft made its way toward Ivix eventually lead him to retrieve a remote access control device from the ship's main navigational console and head down to his quarters for his latest personal data pad. If the Wayfarer's sensors picked up anything unusual while Ratchet was away from the command deck the RAC device would let him know.

_It's utterly morbid, but if anything happens to me on this mission, I'll need to leave instructions behind so Brawn and Blitzwing will know what to do about the virus,_ the medic thought as he reached the crew quarters hall. _So many "ifs", but this is all I can think of to do for the moment. Maybe it's foolish, but it just seems like the right thing for now._

Entering his own room, Ratchet snatched up the data pad he'd left in his top desk drawer and then made his way out, intending to return immediately to the command deck. He stopped short, however, when he noticed the door to Ironhide's quarters stood open. Perhaps they'd forgotten to close it again after concluding the virus investigation. For a moment, Ratchet simply stood and gazed through the opening before actually stepping through it. Everything was as he'd left it last, but this time he took notice of a data pad lying on the nearby desk top. It likely had been there since before Ironhide's infection; perhaps it even held the old mech's last thoughts before he'd gone berserk. Picking it up, Ratchet looked down at it, tempted to activate it, to see what was last programmed into it. Part of him wanted to respect Ironhide's privacy, but another part missed hearing the vet's voice so much that before he had much more time to think it over, he'd activated the pad.

The first line appeared at the top of the most recent entry. _"My dearest Chromia..."_

Ratchet stopped, his fuel lines feeling as though they'd just twisted into a knot. Ironhide had not said a word about Chromia since he had been ressurected. How long had the mech been writing love letters that might never be read by the one he cared about? After a little hesitation, the medic backed up to the directory menu to find that there were over one hundred entries stored on the data pad, each one dated and titled. Ratchet opened one ten entries back and read the first few lines, which described a small disagreement Ironhide had with Brawn about clean up duties that he later regretted. Flipping forward to the last entry, Ratchet read over it.

_"My dearest Chromia: _

_"It's been months since we left Tarth and I'm starting to wonder if we'll ever make it home, again. I haven't really discussed it with the others, but I'm really beginning to doubt a successful return with all the recent trouble we've had. Prowl has insisted on letting Blitzwing stay and it's caused the bounty hunters after him to hunt us, as well. In a way, I can't blame Prowl for his decision, but part of me is so furious that one runaway Decepticon may have just cost us everything. _

_"Chromia, I've thought about you every day since my re-awakening. I've never mentioned this to the guys because I'm not sure how well they'll understand. You know it's hard for me to discuss things like that, anyway. I have a hard time finding the words unless I can take the time to write them down, like I am right now. But I just want to say that despite all my doubts, I know you're still out there, alive and kicking. My spark would have told me if things were any different. And we're trying so hard to make it home to you all. Despite all our troubles, if seeing you just one more time meant I had to find a way to walk all the way back to Cybertron, I'd do it in a sparkbeat. Four millions years in stasis on Earth didn't separate us, and I don't want an inconvenience like death to stand in our way, either. _

_"Someday, I'll see you again. I promise. _

_"Still faithfully yours, Ironhide."_

Hands shaking, Ratchet carefully deactivated the pad and set it back down on the desk. All this time, Ironhide had been silent about his relationship with Chromia, much the same way he'd been on Earth. Many thought all the female Autobots were extinct back then, but now Ratchet suspected that Ironhide had always known otherwise and had forced himself to be patient and bide his time. The older mech was a seasoned warrior who, while not always so patient, had known that the safeguarding of Earth was bigger than both he and Chromia as a bonded pair. It was probably also safe to assume that Chromia knew and understood the same.

Idly, Ratchet wondered if, somewhere back on Cybertron, Chromia was writing similar letters to her lost partner on a regular basis to comfort herself after the battle at Autobot City well over an Earth year ago.

And it was then that Ratchet felt his resolve reestablish its hold. _They have GOT to see each other again, and not as part of All Spark. Primus didn't bring us this far to let all of us die a second time. That can't be the way this ends!_

Turning on one heel, he hurried out of the room and back up the hall towards the command deck. Once there, he rechecked the ship's course before settling into Prowl's command chair where he began further researching zaphite via the database and quickly scribbling out notes and instructions on his pad.

-------

"So if we all live through this," Brawn said, breaking the silence as he kept the evac shuttle on course, "What're you gonna do?"

Blitzwing's response was immediate. "Get really, really hammered."

"I meant long term, but that works fine for the short term."

"I don't see the point of making long term plans when there's a good chance this crazy run will see us all slagged, anyway."

"Nothin' wrong with thinking about better times, especially if they might be coming up."

"Ehn." Blitzwing leaned back in his seat, scowling a bit. "We've spent millions of years fighting each other and now that we're not fighting each other any longer, we're fighting some one else. Who's to say it gets easy after this? I'll probably go back to my life of staying on the run so the rest of the bounty hunters who've heard about the price on my head don't frag me."

Brawn shrugged. "Yeah, maybe... But I've been thinking. What if the war's over by the time we get back? You've been MIA for months."

"Depends on who won."

"Okay, one scenario, then. I know what you'll do if the 'Cons won, so what'll you do if they didn't?"

"There's no difference," Blitzwing snorted. "No matter which side wins, I'm stuck in the middle. I don't know why you're bothering to make it sound like I'm going back to Earth or Cybertron with you slag heads, anyway. I'm better off out here."

Silence followed, both mechs merely watching the navigational screens for several minutes. Brawn opened his mouth once, shut it, then actually managed to spit out what was on his processors. "Tsh, well, not like Ratchet can't reformat you."

The triple changer forced himself to feign indifference, though the truth was that the Junker's statement said volumes more than he ever expected. Was that grudging respect he detected? "He probably could. What do you care?"

"I don't. Not really."

"Huh."

Neither said a word more until the space station became visible on the navigation screens.

-------

Ivix loomed on the horizon of the Wayfarer's main viewing screen, the Mars sized planet resembling a massive chunk of blueish rock left adrift and forgotten. Here and there, if he allowed the ship's cameras to zoom in close enough, Ratchet could make out what he thought might be abandoned mining areas, the ground pock-marked with ditches and tunnels.

In order to get down to Ivix's surface, Ratchet knew he had two choices. One was to actually land the shuttle and disembark, which would allow him easy access to more tools if he required them. The other was to leave the Wayfarer hovering above surface, where it would be safe from anything that might still be lurking about on the planet. Ivix might be an abandoned mining planet, but that did not mean it would be entirely devoid of life, civilized or not. Either way, the Wayfarer would have to be left alone for at least a short while and hopefully its locks, failsafes and auto-defense systems would be enough to protect it in the medic's absence. Finally, Ratchet settled on leaving the Wayfarer above the surface and out of reach, setting the fail safes before heading into med bay and engineering for a few needed items.

As he passed through med bay, he paused long enough to check on the three infected Junkers, who were all still bound to their tables, their over clocked systems being constantly monitored by the nearby equipment. Ratchet checked each of them, one by one, reflecting on their expressions of pain and anger with a sick feeling in his fuel tank. Every so often, they would twitch and convulse, straining against the straps that held them in place. Ratchet couldn't help but wonder if any of them actually understood what had happened to them or if they had even heard and comprehended the conversations held nearby while Brawn and Blitzwing while still onboard.

As he bent over Ironhide, Ratchet dared to rest one hand lightly on the old mech's helm. His voice trembled slightly as he spoke. "Ironhide, buddy... I don't know if you can hear me, but we're going to get you home. Whatever it takes, I'll make sure you get there. I promise."

Ironhide twitched, his head turning in the medic's direction. Though his dental plates were gritted and his optics nearly completely shuttered in pain, the older mech held Ratchet's gaze for a long moment, a thin trail of optic fluid running down one side of his weathered face. Ratchet trembled at the sight before tearing himself away and hurrying on to the storage areas. He couldn't linger any longer than necessary, no matter how much a part of him hurt to leave Ironhide, Prowl and Wheeljack alone in the Wayfarer for even a short while.

In storage, Ratchet found a pair of miniature storage packs that could be attached to his hips, providing safe places for any zaphite he managed to find. He also picked up an extra laser cutter and an element scanner to aid the search and gather process. Then, after making sure his pistols were charged and his arm mounted energon blade was functional, he proceeded into the cargo bay where he pulled on one of the propulsion packs typically used to help the Junkers round up floating space scrap. As he ran one last check on his gear by the airlock doors, he hesitated a moment and glanced around him. It was something of a strange and almost disturbing sensation with no one to see him off or to remain behind and guard the ship. Forcing past the sudden shudder in his relays, Ratchet entered the airlock and allowed the door to shut behind him. He then exited the Wayfarer, taking the plunge into open air and allowing himself to free fall for a second before firing the jets on the propulsion pack.

As he neared the surface of the planet, Ratchet aimed for what looked like the closest deserted mining area, determined to start there and on foot so as to conserve the fuel that remained in the jet pack. Touching down, he turned off the jets and took the element detector in hand, noticing immediately that the air on Ivix's surface was not very organic friendly. He had little time to wonder about what any local life forms may or may have looked like, however.

Ratchet walked for two breems, reaching out with both his onboard scanners and the element detector, sweeping the areas before, behind and to his sides as he explored the abandoned work area. The entire place had the feel of a broken down ghost town, complete with rusting tool sheds, defunct transport units and various tools of all sizes, including giant drill bits, that hasn't seen use in Primus only knew how long. Several open mine shafts gaped on all sides of the Junker, their depths dark and uninviting. The grounds on the whole were littered with bits of scrap metal, machine parts and piles of bolts.

About four breems into his exploration and search, Ratchet came to a sudden halt, his relays tingling as though he felt eyes on the back of his helm, staring him down. Glancing behind him, he saw nothing but the same deserted landscape he'd already traversed. He shivered a bit and pressed on, relieved when the element scanner finally picked up a faint reading approximately fifty feet to his right. Picking up the pace, Ratchet jogged in that direction, watching as the scanner indicated that the reading was becoming stronger with each stride. Finally, he came to a halt by one of the mine openings, pausing briefly to activate the headlights built into his chest before entering with caution.

The tunnel slowly worked its way down on a gradual incline before dropping off sharply about sixty to seventy feet in where the elevator system had been constructed. Fortunately, it seemed Ratchet would be able to avoid a tour of the mines, since the scanner indicated that the zaphite was mere feet away. Sure enough, a tiny golden glow in the side of one wall beckoned the medic, a few passes with the laser cutter on its lowest setting searing away the rock to reveal a fist sized chunk of pale yellow zaphite. Carefully, Ratchet chipped the rest of the rock away and extracted his find, weighing it in his free hand and trying to estimate how much more he would require. Deciding it might not be enough, he moved a bit deeper into the cavern and found another, smaller chunk buried in a pile of fallen debris. He continued to hunt about, picking up smaller pieces where he could find them and digging other bits out of the rock.

He was debating seeking a bit more just to be on the safe side when he heard something clank against the wall behind him, causing him to startle and nearly drop his latest find. Turning, he saw no sign of further movement. It was hard to tell if some debris had shifted or if his own activity had caused a bit of loose rock to plummet from the ceiling, but he decided he was done taking chances. Ratchet dropped the last of the of zaphite into his storage packs and drew his pistols before exiting the mine, hurrying back towards his touch down point at a quick walk.

Ratchet was about half-way there when he heard something rolling along the ground behind him. He paused, turning to look back and saw what appeared to be a handful of _bolts_ tumbling after him of their own accord. While he found this new development fascinating in a frightening sort of way, he had no intention of sticking around to ponder what the slag was going on. Breaking into a jog, he picked up the pace...and so did the rolling parts. Within seconds, more bolts and other bits of machine parts were closing in from the sides, still more joining the collective at the rear. Ratchet could feel his relays shaking... And then he saw it - the rusting, chewed up corpse of a robot mine worker laying just off to his left.

Fear gripped him, and it was a fear stronger than anything else he'd felt since the last battles on Tarth. But just as he realized what was after him, the bolts, nuts and screws pursuing him transformed into hundreds of little beasts with razor sharp teeth, all crying out in high pitched voices for sustenance.

"Primus, no!" Breaking into a full tilt sprint, Ratchet craned his neck to see if the Wayfarer was in sight above him. Transforming to vehicle mode would give him the speed advantage, but he couldn't do so without dropping and leaving most of his extra equipment behind.

He didn't see the oncoming wave until it was too late. Dozens upon dozens of the little creatures sprang up before him, seemingly out of nowhere and latched on to his armor, their teeth sinking in and refusing to let go. Ratchet staggered and, seconds later, was hit by the oncoming rush from behind, causing him to fall forward in a heap, his attackers writhing over his body. Struggling and crying out, he tried to regain his feet, but only made it a few steps before he fell a second time. They were latching onto his armor in a crazed feeding frenzy and drawing out his energy like parasites. His vision began to blur, making it difficult to tell one direction from another as high pitched screeching filled his audio receptors.

_I'm going to die here!_ Ratchet groaned, clawing at the ground, feeling himself grow weaker by the nanoklik, stinging pain clouding his senses. _I'm going to die here...this is it... I can't..._

"Get off him, you parasites!"

Ratchet winced as something wet struck his back, clear liquid cascading over his shoulders and causing his attackers to scream and disengage. Heavier footsteps were approaching in the midst of the feeding frenzy, some of the creatures still refusing to quit their assault crying out as they were tread upon.

"Hey, are you still with me? Hey!"

Ratchet barely managed a "yeah" as strong hands seized him by his arms, hauling him partially upright. His optic sensors registered a red, white and blue armor motif, but the voice was not familiar.

"Is that your ship up there?"

"Y-yes..."

"Then hang on. Scraplets don't give up easily and now they're gnawing on me, too!"

Allowing himself to be locked into a secure hold by his rescuer, Ratchet fought to stay conscious as the sound of rockets firing roared behind him. The other mech had flight capabilities and within moments, both savior and saved were up off the ground, bound for the Wayfarer. A handful of Scraplets still clung to them both, biting and hissing defiantly.

"I need you to open the doors for me!" the mech called out over the noise of his own engines.

Ratchet barely managed to comply, shakily lifting one arm to get at the RAC attached to it. As the airlock slid open, the mech pulled Ratchet inside one entrance and then the other, rushing him down the halls.

"Quickly, now! Do you have a cleanser or wash rack? We have to hurry before our passengers get bored with us!"

Pointing out the way, the Junker let himself be half helped, half dragged to the wash rack room in the crew quarters sector. The room was meant for one user at a time, but had been designed so that regular maintenance wouldn't be a cramped, uncomfortable task to perform. Ratchet's rescuer got the door open and nearly tossed his burden inside before entering himself, the door shutting in his wake. Immediately, the water came on, showering both bitten up victims and causing their attackers to drop to the floor. The other mech reacted quickly, shutting off the water and turning a forearm mounted laser on the downed Scraplets, finishing them off. He then turned the water back on and opened the door.

"Stay here. I'm going to backtrack and make sure none of them dropped off on the way in." Then he was gone, running back down the hallway.

Too drained to do anything but comply, Ratchet remained in his slumped over sitting position, optics trying to focus on the damage done to his leg armor. There were munched up parts all over, but very few actual holes. Silently, he prayed none of the Scraplets had actually gotten inside of him.

"We're clear, I think." The stranger was back, entering the wash rack but leaving the door open. "My scanners aren't picking up any more parasite activity in the halls. It's not a guarantee since they're so hard to pick up once they get it in their tiny heads to turn into bolts and things again, but it's better than nothing."

Ratchet managed to lean back against the wall and raise his head to look at the one responsible for pulling his hide out of the fire. The other mech slid down into a similar sitting position against the opposite wall, draping his arms over his bent legs while the water continued to pour over them both.

"We should sit tight a few cycles longer, just to be sure they're all off and dead," he said. "I just hope neither of us got any on the inside, but I don't think we were exposed long enough for that to happen."

"Hopefully not," Ratchet managed to say in return, forcing his optics to focus on the insignia splashed across the other's chest. A second later, he realized what he was looking at, a gasp escaping him. "You... You're an Autobot?"

"Since the war started. You?"

Ratchet hesistated. "I...I was... But I'm not a Decepticon, either. I've been...out of the action for a while. Just who are you, anyway?"

"I'm a bounty hunter. Call me Devcon."

-------

_Next chapter: The lies of bounty hunter Tashk..._


	13. Chapter 12: Jailbreak!

_Disclaimer: The Transformers and all related material belong to Hasbro, concept originally created and licensed through Takara Co. LTD. All original characters (c) C.R. Majors._

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Author Note: Oh my Primus. It's been over a year since I updated this fic! I can't tell you guys how sorry I am to have kept you waiting this long, but if I wasn't too busy to work on this chapter I was hitting writer's block with it. Here's to hoping the break through that got me through this part will carry me well into the next...

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**Running the Gauntlet**

_Chapter 12: "Jailbreak!"_

Pressed against the wall of the ventilation shaft beside the grate, Jaraxis sat in silence for over a minute, ears turning slowly and straining to catch any sound out of the ordinary. It had taken more time than he would have liked and a near run in with a maintenance drone, but he had finally found his way to the Everdark's crew quarters and the room the shaft let out in was probably that of the ship captain. If Veras' egg was still safe, surely this would be one of the places Tashk would keep it. It was number two on the list in Jaraxis' own mind, anyway; he had already crept through some of the lab and repair bay areas on board, careful to avoid those drones assigned to guard Veras, but had not managed to find anything resembling an Occan egg.

When he was certain the room was empty, Jaraxis pushed himself through the grate, oozing down the wall to the floor where he reformed and skittered behind a metal desk. The quarters were the largest of the crew dorms, decorated with odd bits of alien furniture and knick-knacks. Surprisingly, the bed was low slung, almost floor level. It also appeared a bit small for one of Tashk's size, but Jaraxis didn't have the time to ponder the Kruxan's choice of appearance over functionality with furniture. Easing his way up the side of the desk, Jaraxis sniffed over the top surface in search of clues.

Unfortunately, the room seemed to extraordinarily clean and mostly devoid of non-Kruxan related scent trails. Opening the various compartment drawers on the desk revealed data pads, stylus pieces, various remotes, a handful of alien currency and what appeared to be a translucent flask full of green liquid. All that, but no egg. Jaraxis considered that one of the remotes might open a secret compartment in the room somewhere that held the egg, but randomly pressing buttons might also set off an alarm. Jumping down from the desk, Jaraxis sniffed his way over to the bed and nosed around by the sheet edges. Crawling under the bed revealed little more than bare metal floor with no deeper than normal or unusually slanted seams to indicate a hidden door of any sort. Where the slag was that egg? Perhaps the labs? The command deck, maybe?

Suddenly, the door slid open. Jaraxis instantly flattened himself against the floor and froze, listening hard as something made its way into the room towards the bed. The ticking of several claws against the cold metal surface followed, the barest hint of hollow breathing echoing softly in the Tarthan's rabbit-like ears. Between the floor and the edge of the sheets, Jaraxis could make out a set of four paws, each one armed with several razor sharp talons, the ankles encased in armor.

Zivven.

_Don't move, don't move, don't move..._ The mantra repeated ad nauseam in Jaraxis' head as he listened to the assassin pad about the room. Had Zivven somehow known there was an intruder in the crew quarters? The only security camera in the room was pointed at the door and Jaraxis had been careful to enter outside of its scope of vision when he came in through the grate. Could Zivven _smell_ him? It seemed like the creature was pacing restlessly, as though looking for something.

Time was running short. Jaraxis had little more time to spare looking for the egg and with the other Junkers on their way, a distraction would be needed to keep some of the drones busy. He needed to escape the captain's quarters, but it didn't seem like Zivven was in any hurry to leave, either. But no matter what, the Tarthan realized, it could not be known that he was on board and roaming free. If Tashk knew, he might call off the trade and everything would be ruined.

Jaraxis pressed closer to the floor, feeling his body liquefy a bit in his efforts to pull in on himself and feel smaller. Even for as long as he has possessed a form based on nanotechnology, it was still an unusual feeling, one he was still getting accustomed to for all the abilities it allowed. As he flattened out further, it was then that he felt himself slipping into the cracks, the floor paneling forming a zigzag of patterns beneath him that moved throughout the entire room and even up the walls. An idea grabbed him, but it wouldn't be an easy or comfortable one to carry out.

Slowly, the Tarthan began to slide into one of the seams, one bit at a time until his entire body was slithering along one crack out from under the bed and towards the grate in the wall. If anyone had been watching, Jaraxis looked like a thin stream of quicksilver sliding through the floor cracks. Fortunately, however, Zivven appeared too preoccupied with other matters to take notice of the tiny amount of movement. The assassin busied himself with digging through the various desk compartments instead, finally extracting one data pad and holding it in one clawed paw as he sat on his haunches to examine it, whiplike tail lashing slowly over the floor. He grunted minimally to himself every so often, flicking through the pad's menu screens with one hooked talon.

Finally, Jaraxis arrived inside the ventilation shaft once more, solidifying into his chosen neutral form. Unable to help a sigh of relief, he leaned back against the grate wall, trying to ease the tingling sensation in his chest that was his own equivalent of a spark pulsating rapidly out of fear and excitement. Back in the room, Zivven continued to toy with the datapad, obviously engrossed in some bit of information Jaraxis wished he could be privy to whether or not it had anything to do with the location of the egg or Tashk's assignement for Veras. Before he could plan his next move, however, the voice of Silth echoed over the PA speakers.

"Incoming vessel! It's the Cybertronians! All drones to stations!"

If Jaraxis were still in possession of his old innards, his heart and stomach would have both leapt up one after the other into his throat. In the captain's room, Zivven hissed in what sounded like anticipation and exited, passing the datapad to his prehensile tail so he could fall back onto all fours as he departed.

Mind a-whirl, the Tarthan tried to think fast. "Need a plan, got to think of something! Break something, cause an alarm inside the ship or-"

He stopped short. If the Junkers were nearly there, it likely meant the Everdark had also reached the docking station. Everything was going to happen there, not on board the enemy ship! That meant most of the drones would empty out into the space station, leaving only a skeleton crew behind to guard the prisoners.

Jaraxis pushed himself away from the wall and raced back down the ventilation shaft, heading for the labs once more.

-------

"Hold out your hands."

Blitzwing frowned at the order, looking down as the minibot held up a pair of energy cuffs. "I'm not going to let you restrain me. When everything goes to the Pit, I'll be nothing more than a target and I'm not about to depend on you to defend me."

Brawn scowled in return. "Don't be stupid. We have to keep up appearances or they'll know it's a trick! I'll set the power level to the lowest setting. A big, bad former 'Con like you SHOULD be able to break free outta that, right?"

Grumbling, the triple changer submitted to the order, allowing Brawn to cuff him. The bonds glowed a dim blue in the low light of the cockpit. "Just do your share of the fighting or I swear I'll bail on all of you."

"Hey, this is all or nothing," the other reminded. "And don't worry about me doin' my fair share. I know I'm not the smartest mech on the shuttle, but if there's one thing I'm good at it's kicking aft."

As the space station loomed ever closer, both mechs took the opportunity to examine it. It was not nearly as large as some of the others the Junkers had refueled at in the past, but it was sizable enough to contain several hundred drones and dock five or six large crafts. The Everdark was already present, connected to the station by a long docking corridor, its running lights dark. Brawn carefully pulled the evac ship into the next available dock and allowed the station's system and robotic security arms to take hold and bring them into position. As a corridor extended to meet with the door on the side, Brawn set the shuttle's systems to idle and stood up, double checking to be sure his weapons were properly hidden.

"You just remember to keep your mouth shut and let me do the talking." Brawn stood up and led the way to the airlock connected door. "And try to _look_ like a prisoner, huh?"

"Let you do all the talking? We're as good as dead. And I'd look more like a proper prisoner if you actually looked like a proper guard," Blitzwing grumbled as he moved to follow, working to assume a more submissive posture. He hated even acting the part, but having been severely beaten by slavers in the past, he knew how to look like a broken mech.

"Everyone's a critic." Opening the door, Brawn took hold of one of Blitzwing's arms and began to escort him down the corridor, hauling him a long with a suitably sour expression and being none to kind about how he pulled the prisoner about. As the barrier at the end slid open to admit them into the station, they found a dozen armed drone guards waiting for them. Brawn's optics narrowed. _Oh good. Nice to know the odds are already against us._

-------

Jaraxis stared down through a ventilation grate in the ceiling at the guard drone in front of the door leading to Veras' lab. Someway, somehow, he had to get her out of there before everything went to the Pit. Most of the drones had already emptied out of the Everdark and were on their way to take their positions on the space station. Surely it couldn't be that difficult to get Veras out if she managed to escape the lab?

The problem was two fold, however. One guard on the outside and one on the inside, and even a nanotech Tarthan wasn't a match for them without some sort of weapon. Sure, he could get into the lab easily by oozing through the grate and under the door. The guards probably wouldn't even notice him if he moved carefully enough, but Veras was larger and far more solid. And there was no way to get a weapon to her, as something like a small firearm wouldn't fit under the door and would be difficult to maneuver in the air duct. Jaraxis hunkered down where he sat and flattened his ears back in frustration, fingers tangled up in the tuft on his head as he tried to think. He couldn't even make himself into a weapon, since he had to be able to come in contact with one to absorb the information and he'd never made it a point to touch and examine Ratchet's photon pistols. He knew how to imitate half a dozen other alien species, but what good did that do? Even if he made himself look like Ratchet, he was still a fraction of the size of the drones! Imitating a drone wouldn't do him much good either, since--

_The drones._ The problem was the answer. Jaraxis leaned over the grate, examining the guard below him and seeking a point of entry. Any small seam between armored plates would work. He'd lost count of how many times he had hidden beneath parts of Ratchet's armor and he had hidden inside Windcharger to sneak aboard the Everdark. The idea was a crazy one, but he was running out of time. He was willing to try anything, even if anything was sneaking inside a drone and sabotaging it that way. Maybe if the rotten thing collapsed, the other guard would open the door to look and Jaraxis could take that one out second. How hard could it be? Just get in and break something!

Like molten silver, the Tarthan slipped through the grate and oozed down onto the back of the drone. It twitched as he slid through a chink in the armor, but did little more, optic cameras unable to see anything behind it. The touch was so light, it was as if a ghost tapped it on one shoulder. Once inside, Jaraxis wormed his way past the internal housing and found himself within the guts of the machine, winding his way around bundles of wiring and circuit boxes. Locating the drone's power supply was simple as it generated a field Jaraxis could sense, but breaking that could be risky; busting up something with that much energy to it could cause an explosion. No, the Tarthan would need to locate the main panels of circuit boards that controlled the drone's motor relays or allowed it to use what limited artificial intelligence it possessed. Further exploration eventually led Jaraxis to what appeared to be an important looking section of active boards, prompting him to wrap himself around it in order to snap it like a python would snap the bones of captured prey. Yet as he prepared to deal out some damage, he paused.

Contact with the active board was allowing him to catch glimpses of what the drone could see with its external cameras. Curious...and potentially useful. Jaraxis was no stranger to seeing through the eyes of another, since his connection to Ratchet could allow him to see through the medic when their link was wide open. The very nature of the nanotech that created the Tarthan's new body was to absorb and assimilate other life, so perhaps a hostile take over of a drone was in order.

-------

Veras paused in her work, emotionally and mentally exhausted as she rested her arms against the drafting table and the schematics on top of it. Tashk was beyond ambitious... He was positively insane. What had originally seemed like an obsession in catching Blitzwing for the offered reward had turned into a far more deadly game. Tashk was not interested in Decepticon bounties or even in keeping a handful of Cybertronian prisoners. It was all just a ploy, a part of the dangerous game the Kruxan kept up in order to try and secure a much larger, more worthwhile prize - Cybertron, itself.

The plans for a remote controlled bomb lay before the Occan. Meant to be installed in living Cybertronian, it was intended to be powerful enough to level a small city. The instructions on Tashk's datapad led Veras to believe that the carrier would be Blitzwing. Galvatron would take his wayward warrior back with the intention of punishing or destroying him, only to be eliminated along with a good portion of his troops in the process. Veras had learned through eavesdropping on bits and pieces of conversation while on board the Everdark that Galvatron was suspicious of everything and everyone, but he also had an incredible memory when it came to grudges; his need to swiftly punish Blitzwing would no doubt override his common sense and usual tendency towards caution. No doubt Tashk also planned to use Windcharger in the same manner... Return the former Autobot to his leader and comrades and get rid of them all in one fell swoop. And when Galvatron and the current Autobot Prime were no more, very little would stand in the Kruxan's way of taking over Cybetron to use the planet as he saw fit.

There had to be some way to sabotage Tashk's plans. While Veras feared for the life of her unhatched offspring, she could not help but think of Windcharger and Blitzwing. The former Autobot merely wished to return home, as did his comrades, but none of them would have a home world at all if Tashk got his way. As for Blitzwing, the ex-Decepticon just wanted to keep his freedom. Veras, having been caged like an animal since her father's ship was taken, knew that being able to live free was something that should never be taken for granted. She racked her brain, trying to think...

The workshop door slid open to admit the outside guard. No sooner had the Occan glanced its way than it raised one weapon and fired on its fellow, the interior drone catching the energy blast right in the head. Cranial unit exploding in a shower of sparks and shrapnel, the drone teetered before falling to the floor in a heap. Turning to face Veras, who had momentarily ducked behind her desk with a gasp to take cover, the remaining guard lowered its weapon.

"Veras," it said in the monotone voice so typical of the Everdark drones, "it's Jaraxis! The Junkers are here. I need to get you to them!"

"Jaraxis?" She peered back with wide eyes, trying to make sense of this new situation. "What... How did you...?"

"Internal override. My body is comprised largely of advanced nanotechnology, so I just slipped in and took over," the drone explained before backing out of the room. "Now hurry! We have to get to Windcharger and then get out of here. Most of the guards are in the space station right now. This is the only chance we'll have!"

Getting up from her seat, Veras moved quickly to follow him out. "To get that far, it would probably be best if you pretended to be moving me from this location back to my cell. Once we're there, you can release Windcharger and then pretend to move us elsewhere."

"Sounds like a good plan to me. I mean, to be honest, I hadn't thought all this through _too_ carefully, so it was sort of lack of time that spurred me to action. If we're lucky, maybe we can also locate a pair of rifles or pistols for you and 'Charger to use on the way. Better if all three of us are armed."

"Let us go, then. Time will be short if the Junkers have docked already. Tashk is intelligent enough to figure out before long that something is not as it should be, especially if your comrades try to stall."

Readying a weapon on one arm, Jaraxis took Veras in the hand of another and led her down the hallway towards the brig at a quick march. More than once, they passed drones making up the skeleton crew on board the Everdark, but never once did they receive more than a passing glance and a quick electronic identification scan. The drones were accustomed to seeing Veras being taken to and from the brig and the lab areas, and it seemed so long as she was under armed escort there was no need to question yet another trip. When they reached Windcharger's cell, however, they found one guard before the entrance who did not automatically stand aside upon their arrival.

"The Commander orders that both prisoners be brought before him," Jaraxis intoned in his newly acquired drone vocals. "Stand aside."

"No new orders were relayed," came the equally monotone response, the guard passing an identification scan over Jaraxis and his host body. "Requesting order clarification from bridge--"

Jaraxis fired, relieving yet another guard of its head. As the rest of it clattered to the floor, Veras hurried to get the cell door open.

"Let us hope those on the bridge never received a transmission," she said in a shaking voice as the bars deactivated. "Windcharger! Hurry, we do not have much time."

"What's going on? How did you get out? Where's Tashk?" The questions from the Junker came fast as the minibot staggered to his feet and left the cell behind.

"Jaraxis took over one of my guard drones and brought me this far, but we need to hurry and get off the Everdark," the female among them explained. "Your friends have arrived and may not have much time. We must try to meet them halfway by getting on board the space station before Tashk learns what we are up to."

"You think anyone heard that?" Windcharger glanced down at the smoking remains by their feet.

"If they did, we can't wait around to find out!" Jaraxis forced his host towards the brig exit. "Let's move!"

Windcharger bent down to rip one firearm from the defunct drone, pulling off the attachment set up so that he could access the firing mechanism with greater ease. Before they could even make it out the door, however, another drone appeared. Without even waiting for an order to halt and drop weapons, Jaraxis shot it right in the chest, knocking it back against the wall. He then sped past the mechanical mess, leading the way as Windcharger and Veras stepped over the downed drone and followed him down the corridor.

As they approached the airlock, however, they found it guarded by a pair of drones. Jaraxis immediately shot the first full of holes, but did not have a chance to disable the second before it managed to trip an alarm sequence, somehow. As klaxons blared and red lights flashed overhead, Windcharger pushed his way past Jaraxis to get the airlock open.

"Looks like our luck's about run out!" he growled, fumbling with the command sequence on the console. "Veras, you got the brig door open. You'll have to do this, too!"

As the Occan stepped up to replace the Junker, a handful of drones turned the corner down the hall and sped towards the little group of escapees, weapons blazing. Windcharger and Jaraxis placed themselves in front of their female companion and returned fire, both of them taking damaging shots before they managed to level the opposition. One hand over a leaking wound on his midsection, Windcharger grimaced in pain as the airlock finally opened.

"Don't worry about me! Move!" he ordered before Veras could say word one about his condition. "Get through and then lock the rest of the drones inside the ship!"

No sooner had they cleared the tunnel and shut the door than more drones appeared, shooting at the barrier as it slid into place. Punching out the control console with his free hand, Windcharger bought them a few minutes before glancing at the larger hallway before them. The alarms on the space station had not yet activated, but that didn't mean that Tashk was unaware of the situation.

"Veras, how well do you know this place?" he questioned, one optic narrowed in pain.

"I have only been here once," she answered in a shaky voice. "But if your friends are here, they would have had to enter at a docking port. The next one is not far off, but there is no guarantee they will still be there."

"Jaraxis, you'll have to take point. I hate to put it like this, but your host body is disposable. We'll keep Veras between us," Windcharger said as he tried to draw himself up a bit straighter.

"Disposable and already half out of commission," the Tarthan responded in dismay. "This thing's system is screaming about being only fifty two percent functional with critical energy levels. One or two more shots and it'll be history."

It was then the space station alarms began to sound. Jaraxis turned his drone head up to glance at the free light show before motioning for the rest to follow. As the group hurried down the hall for the next docking point, more drones appeared in the corridor to their rear and began to give chase.

-------

"Good to see you know how to be reasonable."

"Tashk." Brawn's tone was one of unmistakable disgust as the huge Kruxan approached from the hallway behind one line of guards. "Nothing about any of this has been reasonable!"

"Oh, come now," Tashk hissed with a sly smile, "I merely coached you into returning what is rightfully mine. Once Blitzwing is back in my possession, I will be more than happy to give you your friend back. I'll even include the anti-virus you so desperately require."

Brawn arched an optic ridge, knowing that their enemy was lying through his teeth; there was no anti-virus on the Everdark and likely not in the space station, either. That was information he was not supposed to know, however, so he steered clear of calling the Kruxan on the steaming pile of slag he was laying out. "How nice of you. So just where is that friend of mine, huh? If we're trading, why isn't he here?"

"It is rude to talk in the entryway of one's home. Please, follow my head guard and we will make the exchange in one of my conference rooms." As the lead drone began to drift down the corridor, leading the group along, Tashk turned to another guard. "Go fetch the robot in the bring. Bring him to the meeting room on this level."

As the retrieval drone sped ahead of the group and disappeared down a different hall at a junction, Blitzwing glanced back over his shoulder at the Kruxan. Tashk merely grinned wolfishly at him and motioned for him to keep walking.

_What the slag are we waiting for? The farther he takes us from the docks, the less of a chance we have to escape!_ Blitzwing snarled over a secure communications link at his Junker escort. _This is obviously a trap!_

_No, really?_ Brawn's response was equally irritated. _Jaraxis is supposed to be helping us from the inside with some kind of sabotage or something, remember?_

_If we wait for that scrawny rat to come through, we'll be out of time!_

_We don't even know we're they're keeping Veras and that guard was only sent to bring Windcharger, if it's going to bring him back at all--_

The minibot's retort was cut short as the alarms began to sound, bathing the corridor in flashing crimson light. Suddenly, Silth was dashing down the way towards them, tripping over his own feet in his rush to reach them.

"Tashk! There's been a security breach on the Everdark! The prisoners are loose!"

The commanding Kruxan was quick to spit a furious reprimand back. "You bloody fool! Never show weakness before your foes when--"

Blitzwing's right fist landed in his mouth, knocking out a handful of his teeth and sending him backwards onto the floor, crushing one unlucky drone in the process. Brawn grabbed the guard nearest him and hurled it into Silth, both falling into a writhing heap of limbs as the other drones scattered to regroup and open fire on the two Cybertronians. Their efforts were for naught, however, as the triple changer leaned forward and brought his tank turret to bear, a single shot leveling more than half of them and blowing out one corridor wall.

As Tashk regained his feet with an enraged roar, he drew his energy sword. Blitzwing whirled to face the Kruxan as he tore off what remained of his restraining cuffs while Brawn dispatched the remaining drones with Wheeljack's daggers.

"You think you can take me within my own territory?" Tashk demanded. "Both of you will be nothing more than trophies on my hunting wall when I am through with you!"

Taking Prowl's sword from its hiding place, Blitzwing activated it and lunged to attack. "Shut your mouth and fight!"

-------

_Next chapter: And it all ended with a BANG!_


	14. Chapter 13: The Bigger They Are

_Disclaimer: The Transformers and all related material belong to Hasbro, concept originally created and licensed through Takara Co. LTD. All original characters (c) C.R. Majors._

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**Running the Gauntlet**

_Chapter 13: "The Bigger They Are..."_

"So let me make sure I'm clear on this... Your spark was extinguished during the attack on Autobot City, the same battle that resulted in the death of Optimus Prime? You weren't just in stasis the whole time?"

"Deader than a doornail, as humans tends to say, yeah. I know it sounds crazy, but it's the truth. Right now, though, I need to concentrate on making sure the rest of my crew members don't end up as corpses a second time."

Sitting down in the command chair on the Wayfarer's main deck, Ratchet programmed the autopilot to set a course for Tashk's space station. Nearby, Devcon glanced over the empty chairs and lit consoles, frowning and still trying to make sense of the claim he'd been presented with moments earlier. Both of them were still a bit damp and sporting teeth marks where the Scraplets attacked, but there was no time for repair work at the moment.

"You were a friend of Smokescreen's, weren't you?" the medic inquired as he input the commands.

"I'd like to think I still am," came the reply. "I don't get back to Cybertron much, since my hunting jobs take me far and wide. Last time I spoke to Smokescreen, he was trying to convince me to join him for a few drinks and a game of cards on Earth."

Ratchet glanced up from his work, fuel lines suddenly tingling with a rush of hope. "Would you know how to get to Earth from here?"

"Yeah. He sent me the coordinates then, even though I didn't accept the invite."

"Which is closer then? Cybertron or Earth? Time is crucial, here. If we can't get the others infused with Cybertronium in time, their insides will burn out completely!"

"Earth, easily," Devcon responded. "If you want, I can upload my star charts to your shuttle's navigational system."

_Oh, thank Primus!_ Ratchet couldn't help but think at the other's offer. "Devcon, if you can do that for me, I'll ask nothing further of you! I know I already owe you one for pulling me out of that mess on Ivix, as it is."

The bounty hunter smirked. "Heh, I lead a lonely existence on the job. I'd be lying if I said I didn't appreciate running into other friendly Cybertroians out here, even if you're not actively identifying yourself as an Autobot right now. Although if what you're saying about Tashk is true, I might be able to get a few credits for his mangy hide. He's not exactly popular among our kind and he's made a number of enemies." He paused, glancing back at the Junker thoughtfully. "By the way, I never got your name."

"It's Ratchet."

"Ratchet? _The_ Ratchet? Autobot Chief Medical Officer?" Devcon was blinking his shutters in surprise.

Allowing himself a small smirk, the red and white nodded. "The same. Guess you didn't figure on who I was by looks?"

"Heh, don't flatter yourself too much," Devcon joked with a low chuckle. "I'm so out of the way most of the time, news reaches me without a lot of detail. When I heard about the attack on Autobot City, the only name I got in terms of permanent casualties was Optimus Prime's. I knew others had been sent on their way to the Well of All Sparks, I just didn't know who exactly. I do remember your name from the earlier vorns of the Great War, though. Never met you, obviously, but some names are the stuff of legends. Ratchet, Prowl, Jazz, Ironhide..."

"Prowl and Ironhide are two of the mechs in the medbay right now, depending on me to get them to Earth in time. As I said before, we need Cybertronium to fix them permanently and the zaphite I took from Ivix will hopefully slow their system deterioration long enough to actually _get_ said Cybertronium. I just don't know how exactly to apply the stuff without Veras' help. She's the one who was forced to create the virus by Tashk and if we don't get her onboard, making back to Earth in a timely manner will be a moot point."

"I take you know there's stash of Cybertronium on Earth?"

"I hope so. We needed it once before and after that, I made sure to keep it stocked in the Ark and then in Autobot City when we changed base sites. Do you by chance know who is current acting CMO for the Autobots under Rodimus Prime?"

"I don't, no," Devcon admitted with a shrug. "And I hope that stash is still there after the raid that took your life. I'd say we could try to radio in to find out, but we're too far out of range right now. How'd you know about Rodimus Prime if you've been out the loop so long, anyway?"

Ratchet hesitated. If he revealed his source of information... Devcon was a bounty hunter who tracked and captured Decepticons for the most part, as far as the Junker knew. Then again, it wasn't like Devcon would never find out if he stayed on long enough to reach the space station. "Blitzwing. We bought him from some intergalactic slavers on Krux and got him to tell us everything he knew about what happened after we were killed. Just...don't take him into custody along with Tashk! He's not really a 'Con anymore. I probably still wouldn't be functional now if it wasn't for his help in the middle of this slagstorm."

Devcon's optics widened considerably. "So that's where the fragger ended up! Galvatron put a bounty out on him a while back, though I never answered it personally because I don't work for Decepticons, not even if it's hunting one of their own. I heard Blitzwing turned on their lot. Gotta give him credit for having the internals to pull that on the likes of Galvatron. He is one crazy Decepticon from all I've heard."

"So you've got no interest in turning Blitzwing in? Good."

"Not to Galvatron. If you're heading back to Earth, though, I don't know what kind of welcome he'll get even if he is with you."

"We'll cross that bridge if and when we come to it," Ratchet sighed as he finished setting course. "Right now, one thing at a time."

"True enough." Sitting down at one of the terminals, Devcon plugged into the main computer system. "I'll get your star charts uploaded on the way. Then we'll see how much that filth pile Tashk likes it when he's got a hunter on _his_ tail."

Unable to suppress an optimistic grin, the first he'd managed in a long time, the medic fired up the Wayfarer's main engines and set the craft in motion. "Then let's get moving. I never did like being the last one to the party!"

-------

Windcharger ducked behind a corner as laser fire hammered the corridor, leaving black edged holes in the walls and floor. Behind him, Veras huddled in the small maintenance alcove, the only one unarmed in the middle of a vicious firefight as Junker and Tarthan attempted to hold a mounting army of drones at bay. Across the way, the pirated drone fired into the advancing line, knocking back two more guards into their fellows. The hall was already choked with more than a dozen destroyed drones, their bodies twitching, sparking and occasionally exploding while their still functional fellows attempted to get over them to continue the assault.

The door directly behind them was sealed shut; Windcharger had closed it and smashed the controls only moments before to keep more guards from reaching them. How long the barrier would hold the mindless soldiers was a concern surpassed only by how long they could hold out against those enemies still actively firing on their group from the opposite direction.

"I'm almost out of ammo over here!" Jaraxis called across the way before dispatching another drone with a well place shot to the head. "At this rate, we'll be overrun!"

"Slag! I feel like Han Solo, pinned down in the middle of a firefight! The only things missing are the Ewoks," Windcharger growled as he checked his own firearm and found its energy nearly depleted.

"Who with the what?" Jaraxis exclaimed.

"Never mind! Old Earth culture thing," came the irritated response. Glancing back at Veras, the minibot presented her with a pleading expression. "Not to pressure you or anything, but if you have any ideas at all on how to get out of this situation 'Rax and I are definitely open to suggestions!"

The female glanced between the two and tried to focus, tried to think...

Suddenly, a yellow-orange hot spot appeared on the door to their rear. Something on the other side was trying to cut through with a laser.

"They're going to break through!" Jaraxis cried in defeat.

"Fraggit all! I--" Windcharger stopped, gaze falling on the maintenance console beside the Occan. It looked to be still intact for the most part. He thought back to the off-hand reference he'd made earlier. That Earth movie... "Veras, can you hack into the space station's systems?"

"I...I might be able to, but it would take some time!" she responded, voice shaking with panic.

Windcharger considered that. The situation was already going to the Pit in a hand basket. "Try, then! See if you can get in and call the drones off! Shut them down, send them somewhere else, make them attack their own. Something, anything! Jaraxis and I will do everything we can to buy you time!"

As Veras got to work the other two attempted to make every shot count as the drones continued to advance further down the hall...

-------

"Get back here, you little freak!" Brawn shouted as he grabbed a retreating Silth by one back leg, effectively pulling the cybernetic mess to the floor with a loud clang.

One of the beam daggers in his free hand, the minibot leapt forward to bury it in the Kruxan's back, only to take a fist to the face as his target managed to roll over and counterattack. Recoiling but refusing to release his hold, Brawn shook off the hit and hauled Silth over the floor, attempting to throw him off balance again. As more drones closed in around them, readying their weapons to fire on the Junker, Brawn stabbed Silth in the side before hauling him upright to use him as a shield.

"Hold...hold your fire!" Silth shrieked, wincing in pain as purple blood oozed from his wound.

"No! Kill the Cybertronians!" Tashk bellowed as he crossed blades with Blitzwing, the two clashing back and forth across the hallway a mere fifty feet away. "SHOOT THEM!"

"Tashk!" Silth's tongue lolled from his mouth as Brawn strengthened his hold. "They'll shoot me! Us!" Unable to abide by his leader's command, he waved one arm at the drones. "Hold your fire!"

Confused by the conflicting orders, the guards raised and lowered their weapon arms repeatedly, unable to determine a clear course of action.

"Shoot th--!" Tashk grunted as his adversary forced his blade aside and shoved him into a wall, hand wrapping around his throat.

"You'd better keep him from calling orders, bucket head!" Brawn called, struggling to keep his enemy captive.

"I'm working on it, runt!" the triple changer snarled back, dental plates gritted as Tashk tried to use one hand to free himself. "How about you worry about your end and kill that abomination!"

Before Brawn could offer a retort, Silth retaliated, sinking his metal fangs into his captor's arm. Howling in pain and indignity, the Junker let go and lashed out with his dagger. Sparks flew as Silth was relieved of his right arm, the limb severed at the elbow. Screaming in agony, he fell backwards onto the floor. An attempt to finish what he started earned Brawn a vicious kick to the chest, however, sending him back into the wall with several long gashes across his armor.

"You...won't...win!" Taskh gasped, finally removing the hand from his neck and straining to force Blitzwing back. Bringing one clawed foot up, he slammed it into the triple changer and threw him against the opposite wall. Free at last, Tashk swung his sword about and leapt to strike. "This ends NOW!"

Blitzwing rolled to one side, narrowly avoiding a blade through the middle of his chest. As Tashk's weapon sliced into the metal flooring, the former Decepticon returned the favor and landed a kick squarely to his foe's side, sending him sprawling. Kicking back up, Blitzwing rushed to attack again, intent on keeping his foe from reaching his discarded sword.

On the other end of the hall, Silth rolled up onto his feet and drew a laser pistol from a side holster with his remaining hand. "You'll pay for what you did to me! I'M TIRED OF LOSING LIMBS!"

Brawn staggered back as Silth opened fire, catching the Cybertronian in the shoulders and chest, the shots punching holes through the first layer of armor and eating into the protective housing beneath. As his systems began to warn of damages, Brawn cursed and tried to block himself with his arms, deflecting some of the shots with his own weapon. This was all too familiar. The last time enemy fire had gotten past his tough armor... The Lancet...and Autobot City.

For a split second, Brawn was sure he saw the smirking faceplate of Starscream flash before his optics, Megatron in gun mode held in one hand as he took aim...

"NO!" Brawn hurled the dagger. A sickening thunk followed as it impaled Silth through his left shoulder and stuck him to the wall. The cyborg writhed in pain, struggling to free himself, but failed to escape before Brawn drew Wheeljack's other blade and relieved him of his remaining hand. As blood cascaded to the floor, spattering Brawn's feet, he moved back and away in disgust.

Across the way, Tashk resorted to seizing a nearby drone with one hand and using it as a shield as Blitzwing attacked, Prowl's sword cleaving the smaller machine in half with one swipe. Before the other could recoil to swing again, Tashk ran one half of the drone into the sides of the triple changer's head. Jarred by the sudden blow, Blitzwing staggered back and shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs and get the reverberation out of his audios. The moment of confusion cost him almost immediately. Roaring in frustration, Tashk continued his vicious assault, hammering away on his opponent without mercy. As Blitzwing hit the floor again, Tashk tossed the mangled halves of the drone aside and snatched up his energy sword.

"Too bad! Galvatron will just have to settle for what's left of you, now!"

"TASHK!"

The Commander of the Everdark glanced back over one shoulder, his weapon poised to impale Blitzwing where he lay. Behind him, Brawn raised Silth's dropped pistol and fired. A scream pain escaped Tashk as the shot struck true, hitting him squarely in the back. Blade released by hands suddenly reaching back in shock, the sword plummeted down and bit through Cybertronian armor. Face contorted in anger and pain, but grateful the brief distraction had given him time to slide back and take the blade to one leg instead of his chest, Blitzwing reached up with his free hand and yanked the weapon out of himself. Moving quickly, he struggled to his feet to finish Tashk off while he had the chance.

Black furred hands seized Blitzwing by the forearms and held him at bay; Tashk grunted and wavered under the wound to his back but did not fall. Much to Blitzwing's shock and dismay, the monster Kruxan was still capable of halting what would have been twin killing strikes. Wrenching the triple changer back, Tashk leaned forward and drove the overhanging, talon-like projections on his back into his enemy's shoulders, forcing him to drop both blades. Bent over at the waist, Blitzwing cursed and struggled, feeling his gears grind and hearing his joints whine as his arms were nearly wrenched from their sockets.

"You put up a good fight, but this really is it, this time," Tashk hissed down at him.

Behind him, Brawn fired three more shots into his back. Though he shuddered and grunted, however, Tashk held fast.

"Is that all you have, tiny one?" the Kruxan managed to laugh, eyes narrowing. "Be a good little fool and wait your turn!"

One of the daggers followed; Brawn would not be so easily dismissed. It embedded itself in Tashk's flesh right below his neck. Roaring furiously, he threw a vile curse at the defiant minibot before turning and spitting a mouthful of black blood into Blitzwing's face out of pure disdain.

Mouth pulling into a disgusted sneer, Blitzwing glared up at Tashk through his cracked visor, the blood running down the sides of his helm. "This one's for Veras."

"_What?_"

The grinding of gears followed as Blitzwing's tank cannon swung into place...and fired.

Brawn dove out of the way as Tashk careened down the hallway and crashed into a wall before dropping like a rag doll to the floor in a smoking heap. With only the station's alarm and Silth's agonized whimpering echoing in his audios, the minibot carefully got to his feet and glanced down the way where Blitzwing was forcing himself back into an upright position, joints creaking as he did so. Retrieving both Prowl's sword and Tashk's weapon, the triple changer deactivated both as he limped down the hallway to where the Kruxan lay in a crumpled, pitiful pile.

"I think he might actually be dead this time," Brawn said with a grimace, the smell of burning fur more than a little offensive.

Blitzwing kicked the body over with one foot to reveal a gaping hole in Tashk's midsection. "You think?"

"K...kill them..."

Both Junker and former Decepticon turned to where Silth was still stuck to the wall, the dying cyborg using what little life he had left to issue commands to the confused drones loitering about.

"Kill them!" Silth managed to call out. "Stop at nothing to DESTROY THEM!"

Snatching the pistol from Brawn's hand, Blitzwing shot Silth in the head, silencing him once and for all. The damage was done, however, the drones already bringing their weapons to the ready position as they turned as one towards the invaders.

"This really isn't good," Brawn muttered as he backed up a step. "How many drones do you think this place has in it?"

"Two, three hundred more, maybe?" Blitzwing forced the pistol back into the minibot's hands and reactivated the beam swords. "And Zivven is still in here, somewhere."

"As if we weren't having a bad day, already," the other grumbled.

Like a moving wall, the drones advanced, their red optics focused on their two targets. There was no one left in the area to call them off. Blitzwing uttered a deep growl, poised to strike. At his side, Brawn took aim with the pistol, wishing he hadn't been forced to trade his gauntlets for daggers. Both of them were embedded in dead bodies.

One after the other, the drone firearms powered up. The sound bounced off the corridor walls, reverberating in a loud, angry hum. All weapons prepped to fire, the drones took aim...

And opened fire on each other. Within seconds, the halls were filled with the sounds of guards falling to the floor in sizzling heaps, the drones turning on each other in a messy, chaotic free-for-all. Overhead, the klaxons ceased to sound and as the last of the drones collapsed, the smoke rising from the jumble of metal bodies, total silence falling over the area.

Brawn shook his head in disbelief. Not a single shot had been fired their way. "What in the name of Primus just happened?"

For a long moment, Blitzwing said nothing. Finally, he shrugged slightly. "Aside from them doing all the work for us, no fragging clue."

A sudden scrabbling of claws over metal caught their attention and both turned toward a pile of freshly ventilated drones that nearly blocked one of the hall outlets. Blitzwing slid forward half a step, already steeling himself to attack.

"Brawn?" Two rabbit-like ears peeked over the drone at the top of the pile, the rest of Jaraxis following a second later. "Blitzwing! By the claws, I was starting to think this whole thing was a lost cause!"

"I think it came close, buddy," Brawn admitted with a relieved smile as his triple changer partner relaxed his stance. "Where are the others? And what happened to the guards?"

"They're coming," Jaraxis replied before climbing over the pile and scurrying down the other side. "We got trapped in a hall with a maintenance console in it, so Veras tried to hack the space station's control systems to take control of the drones. She couldn't quite manage it without a hardware assist, so I used the drone I was possessing to give her a hand."

Blitzwing frowned, blinking behind his visor. "Possessed a drone? Great. That's all we needed, you with the ability to seize control of mechanical things."

"It's pretty useful, though I doubt I could pull that on a thinking machine," the Tarthan replied with a smug smirk. "And don't complain. It was that plus Veras' quick programming know-how that got all these little trigger-happy bots to take one another out."

The sound of metal on metal prompted the trio to take a few steps back, however, as Windcharger's magnetic field forced the drone heap to the sides of the hall, allowing him to limp through with Veras at his side. The Occan exchanged a meaningful look with the former Decepticon in their midst, though neither greeted one another verbally.

"Guess this is where the party is, huh?" the silver minibot managed with a weak smile. He tossed the firearm he'd been carrying aside, glad to rid of it. The blasted thing was completely out of energy charges, anyway. It only took him a few seconds to note the carnage behind the drones, however. "By the Matrix! Was that Tashk? And Silth?"

Brawn looked back at the bodies in disgust. "Yeah, 'was' being the key word. Blitzwing did them in, but I carved Silth up good before he got shot in the head. Zivven's still in the station somewhere, though. We never once saw him in the middle of all this."

"Hey guys?" Jaraxis was standing alongside the prone form of Tashk. "Um, does this guy look odd to any of you? He smells really bad. Like, rotting bad! And what color is Kruxan blood?" He stole a glance at Silth. "His is purple, but ugly here is bleeding black."

Though thoroughly repulsed by the sight of the dead, Veras carefully made her way over and knelt at Tashk's side. Her owlish eyes widened as she examined the corpse, one hand hovering over the hole in the chest. Afraid to actually touch anything, she was forced to settle for pointing here and there as the rest gathered around. "He does not bleed Kruxan blood. It is some sort of foul mix of...a chemical compound, not unlike machinery fluid. The edges of the blast hole are scorched badly, yet I can still make out what may have been parts of artificial organs and...wiring? It looks much like organic material with fur grown over metal plating along here..."

"Well, Silth _was_ a cyborg," Brawn said with a shrug. "Wouldn't shock me to know both of 'em were. That would explain why the hairball was so slagging hard to knock down."

"He's dead. It doesn't matter. Let's get Veras back to the evac ship so she can rendezvous with Ratchet at the Wayfarer and fix your virus infected crew mates," Blitzwing suggested, starting to show signs of aggravation over all the standing around going on.

_"No one is going anywhere!"_

The sound of doors slamming shut echoed up and down the corridors, indicating that all over the space station, exit routes were being swiftly cut off. Above the group, the ceiling speakers hissed with static, the grating voice speaking again as the metallic clanging faded away into relative silence once more.

_"I once had a use for some of you, but you have invaded my space station, destroyed my drones, killed my cyborg and trashed my counterpart body! Enjoy your trip into oblivion, fools!"_

Windcharger arched an optic ridge. "What in the--"

_"WARNING! Self destruct sequence initiated. Starting countdown to detonation..."_

As the monotone, computerized voice began counting down over the PA, Brawn sighed heavily. "Well, at least now we know what Zivven was up to all this time. Who knew the freak show knew how to speak, much less set the self destruct in this Pit hole?"

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_Next chapter: Countdown to destruction!_


End file.
